
Book ^^4- 



yUST PUBLISHED. 



THE ADVENTURES 

OF 

CALEB WILLIAMS. 

BY 

WILLIAM GODWIN. 
8vo, paper, price 50 cents. 



Readers of "Lady Byron Vindicated" will be interested 
in this famous novel, to which reference is frequently made by 
Mrs. Stowe. [See pages 243, 343, and 364, of the present 
volume.] 

*^* Senty postpaid^ on receipt of price by the Publishers^ 

FIELDS, OSGOOD, k CO., Boston. 



Lady Byron Vindicated 



-jis-i 



Mr 



A HISTORY 



The Byron Controversy, 



FROM ITS BEGINNING IN 1816 TO THE PRESENT TIME. 



HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. 




BOSTON : 

FIELDS, OSGOOD, & CO. 

1870. 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, by 

FIELDS, OSGOOD, & CO., 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 






CONTENTS. 



PART I. 

CHAPTER I. 
Introduction l 

CHAPTER II. 
The Attack on Lady Byron 9 

CHAPTER HI. 

RESUMfi OF THE CONSPIRACY • . 77 

CHAPTER IV. 
Results after Lord Byron's Death 87 

CHAPTER V. 
Thk Attack on Lady Byron's Gravb IS3 



PART IT, 



CHAPTER L 
Lady Byron as I knew Her 301 

CHAPTER IL 

Lady Byron's Story as told Me 23a 

5 



6 CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER III. 
Chronological Summary of Events 258 

CHAPTER IV, 
The Character of the Two Witnesses compared . . . 299 

CHAPTER V. 
The Direct Argument to prove the Crime .... 325 

CHAPTER VI. 
Physiological Argument 370 

CHAPTER VII. 
How could she love Him? 393 

CHAPTER VIII. 
Conclusion 403 

PART III. 

MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 

The True Story of Lady Byron's Life (as originally pub- 
lished IN "The Atlantic Monthly") 4^3 

Lord Lindsay's Letter to "The London Times" . . .43^ 
Dr. Forbes Winslow's Letter to "The London Times" . 458 
Extract from Lord Byron's Expunged Letter to Murray . 461 

Extracts from "Blackwood's Magazine" 462 

Letters of Lady Byron to H. C. Robinson . . . .468 
Domestic Poems by Lord Byron 475 



PART I 



CHAPTER I 



INTRODUCTION. 



'T^HE interval since my publication of "The 
True Story of Lady Byron's Life" has 
been one of stormy discussion and of much 
invective. 

I have not thought it necessary to disturb 
my spirit and confuse my sense of right by 
even an attempt at reading the many abusive 
articles that both here and in England have 
followed that disclosure. Friends have under- 
taken the task for me, giving me from time to 
time the substance of anything really worthy of 
attention which came to view in the tumult. 

It appeared to me essential that this first 
excitement should in a measure spend itself 
before there would be a possibility of speaking 
to any purpose. Now, when all would seem 

I A 



2 INTRODUCTION. 

to have spoken who can speak, and, it is to 
be hoped, have said the utmost they can say, 
there seems a propriety in Hstening calml}^, if 
that be possible, to what I have to say in 
reply. 

And, first, why have I made this disclosure at 
all ? 

To this I answer briefly, because I considered 
it my duty to make it. 

I made it in defence of a beloved, revered 
friend, whose memory stood forth in the eyes 
of the civilized world charged with most re- 
pulsive crimes, of which I certainly knew her 
innocent. 

I claim, and shall prove, that Lady Byron's 
reputation has been the victim of a concerted 
attack, begun by her husband during her life- 
time, and coming to its climax over her grave. 
I claim, and shall prove, that it was not I who 
stirred up this controversy in this year 1869. I 
shall show wJio did do it, and who is responsi- 
ble for bringing on me that hard duty of making 



INTRODUCTION. 3 

these disclosures, which it appears to me ought 
to have been made by others. 

I claim that these facts were given to me 
unguarded by any promise or seal of secrecy, 
expressed or implied ; that they were lodged 
with me as one sister rests her story with 
another for sympathy, for counsel, for defence. 
Never did I suppose the day would come that 
I should be obliged to so cruel an anguish as 
this use of them has been to me. Never did 
I suppose that, — when those kind hands, that 
had shed nothing but blessings, were lying in 
the helplessness of death, — when that gentle 
heart, so sorely tried and to the last so full of 
love, was lying cold in the tomb, — a country- 
man in England could be found to cast the 
foulest slanders on her grave, — and not one in 
all England to raise an effective voice in her 
defence. 

I admit the feebleness of my plea, in point 
of execution. It was written in a state of 
exhausted health, when no labor of the kind 



4 INTRODUCTION. 

was safe for me, — when my hand had not 
strength to hold the pen, ar,d I was forced to 
dictate to another. 

I have been told that I have no reason to 
congratulate myself on it as a literary effort. 

my brothers and sisters ! is there then nothing 
in the world to think of but literary efforts } 

1 ask any man with a heart in his bosom, if he 
had been obliged to tell a story so cruel, because 
his mother's grave gave no rest from slander, — 
I ask any woman who had been forced to such 
a disclosure to free a dead sister's name from 
grossest insults, whether she would have thought 
of making this work of bitterness a literary 
success ? 

Are the cries of the oppressed, the gasps of 
the dying, the last prayers of mothers, — are 
a72j/ words wrung like drops of blood from the 
human heart to be judged as literary efforts ? 

My fellow-countrymen of America, men of the 
press, I have done you one act of justice, — 
of all your bitter articles, I have read not one. 



INTRODUCTION. 5 

I shall never be troubled in the future time 
by the remembrance of any unkind word you 
have said of me, for at this moment I recol- 
lect not one. I had such faith in you, such 
pride in my countrymen, as men with whom, 
above all others, the cause of woman was safe 
and sacred, that I was at first astonished and 
incredulous at what I heard of the course of 
the American press, and was silent, not merely 
from the impossibility of being heard, but from 
grief and shame. But reflection convinces me 
that you were, in many cases, acting from a mis- 
understanding of facts and through misguided 
honorable feeling; and I still feel courage, there- 
fore, to ask from you a fair hearing. Now, as I 
have done you this justice, will you also do me 
the justice to hear me seriously and candidly .'' 

What interest have you or I, my brother and 
my sister, in this short life of ours, to utter any- 
thing but the truth ? Is not truth between man 
and man and between man and woman the 
foundation on which all things rest ? Have 



6 INTRODUCTION. 

you not, every individual of you, who must 
hereafter give an account yourself alone to God, 
an interest to know the exact truth in this 
matter, and a duty to perform as respects that 
truth ? Hear me, then, while I tell you the 
position in which I stood, and what was my 
course in relation to it. 

A shameless attack on my friend's memory 
had appeared in the Blackwood of July, 1869, 
branding Lady Byron as the vilest of criminals, 
and recommending the Guiccioli book to a 
Christian public as interesting from the very 
fact that it was the avowed production of Lord 
Byron's mistress. No efficient protest was made 
against this outrage in England, and Littell's 
Living Age reprinted the Blackwood article, 
and the Harpers, the largest publishing house 
in America, perhaps in the world, re-published 
the book. 

Its statements — with those of the Black- 
wood, Pall Mall Gazette, and other English peri- 
odicals ^- v>^ere being propagated through all the 



INTRODUCTION. / 

young reading and writing world of America. I 
was meeting them advertised in dailies, and made 
up into articles in magazines, and thus the gener- 
ation of to-day, who had no means of judging 
Lady Byron but by these fables of her slander- 
ers, were being foully deceived. The friends who 
knew her personally were a small select circle 
in England, whom death is every day reducing. 
They were few in number compared with the 
great world, and were silent. I saw these foul 
slanders crystallizing into history uncontra- 
dicted by friends who knew her personally, 
who, firm in their own knowledge of her vir- 
tues and limited in view as aristocratic circles 
generally are, had no idea of the width of the 
world they were living in, and the exigency of 
the crisis. When time passed on and no voice 
was raised, I spoke. I gave at first a simple 
story, for I knew instinctively that whoever put 
the first steel point of truth into this dark cloud 
of slander must wait for the storm to spend itself 
I must say the storm exceeded my expectations, 



8 INTRODUCTION. 

and has raged loud and long. But now that 
there is a comparative stillness I shall proceed, 
first, to prove what I have just been asserting, 
and, second, to add to my true story such facts 
and incidents as I did not think proper at first 
to state. 



CHAPTER II. 

THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 

T N proving what I asserted in the first chap- 
ter, I make four points : ist. A concerted 
attack upon Lady Byron's reputation, begun by 
Lord Byron in self-defence. 2d. That he trans- 
mitted his story to friends to be continued after 
his death. 3d. That they did so continue it. 
4th. That the accusations reached their climax 
over Lady Byron's grave in Blackwood of 1869, 
and the Guiccioli book, and that this reopening 
of the controversy was my reason for speaking. 

And first I shall adduce my proofs that Lady 
Bryon's reputation was, during the whole course 
of her husband's life, the subject of a concen- 
trated, artfully planned attack, commencing at 
the time of the separation and continuing dur- 
ing his life. By various documents carefully 



10 THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 

prepared, and used publicly or secretly as suited 
the case, he made converts of many honest men, 
some of whom were writers and men of letters, 
who put their talents at his service during his 
lifetime in exciting sympathy for him, and who, 
by his own request, felt bound to continue their 
defence of him after he was dead. 

In order to consider the force and significance 
of the documents I shall cite, we are to bring 
to our view just the issues Lord Byron had to 
meet, both at the time of the separation and for 
a long time after. 

In Byron's Memoirs, Vol. IV. Letter 350, under 
date December 10, 18 19, nearly four years after 
the separation, he writes to Murray in a state 
of great excitement on account of an article 
in Blackwood, in which his conduct towards 
his wife had been sternly and justly com- 
mented on, and which he supposed to have been 
written by Wilson, of the Noctes Ambrosianae. 

He says in this letter : " I like and admire W n, 

and he should not have indulged himself in such 



THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. II 

outrageous license When he talks of 

Lady Byron's business he talks of what he 
knows nothing about ; and you may tell him 
no man cait desire a ptiblic investigation of that 
affair more than I do'.' * 

He shortly after wrote and sent to Murray a 
pamphlet for publication, which was printed, but 
not generally circulated till some time afterwards. 
Though more than three years had elapsed 
since the separation, the current against him at 
this time was so strong in England that his 
friends thought it best, at first, to use this article 
of Lord Byron's discreetly with influential per- 
sons rather than to give it to the public. 

The writer in Blackwood and the indisrna- 
tion of the English pubHc, of which that writer 
was the voice, were now particularly stirred up 
by the appearance of the first two cantos of 
" Don Juan," in which the indecent caricature 
of Lady Byron was placed in vicinity with 
other indecencies, the publication of which 

* The italics are mine. 



12 THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 

was justly considered an insult to a Christian 
community. 

It must here be mentioned, for the honor of 
Old England, that at first she did her duty quite 
respectably in regard to '* Don Juan." One can 
still read, in Murray's standard edition of the 
poems, how every respectable press thundered 
reprobations, which it would be well enough to 
print and circulate as tracts for our days. 

Byron, it seems, had thought of returning to 
England, but he says, in the letter we have 
quoted, that he has changed his mind, and shall 
not go back, adding : " I have finished the Third 
Canto of 'Don Juan/ but the things I have heard 
and read discourage all future publication. You 
may try the copy question, but you '11 lose it ; 
the cry is up, and the cant is up. I should have 
no objection to return the price of the copy- 
right, and have written to Mr. Kinnaird on this 
subject." 

One sentence quoted by Lord Byron from the 
Blackwood article will show the modern readers 



THE ATTACK ON LADY DYKON. I 3 

what the respectable world of that day were 
thinking and saying of him : — 

"It appears, in short, as if this miserable man, hav- 
ing exhausted every species of sensual gratification, — 
having drained the cup of sin even to its bitterest 
dregs, — were resolved to show us that he is no 
longer a human being even in his frailties, but a cool, 
unconcerned fiend, laughing with detestable glee over 
the whole of the better and w^orse elements of which 
human life is composed." 

The defence which Lord Byron makes, in his 
reply to that paper, is of a man cornered and 
fighting for his life. He speaks thus of the state 
of feeling at the time of his separation from his 
wife : — 

" I was accused of every monstrous vice by pubHc 
rumor and private rancor ; my name, which had been 
a knightly or a noble one since my fathers helped to 
conquer the kingdom for William the Norman, was 
tainted. I felt that, if what was whispered and mut- 
tered and murmured was true, I was unfit for Eng- 
land ; if false, England was unfit for me. I withdrew ; 
but this was not enough. In other countries — in 



14 THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 

Switzerland, in the shadow of the Alps, and by the 
blue depth of the lakes, — I was pursued and breathed 
upon by the same blight. I crossed the mountains, 
but it was the same ; so I went a Httle farther, and 
settled myself by the waves of the Adriatic, like the 
stag at bay, who betakes him to the waters. 

" If I may judge by the statements of the few friends 
who gathered round me, the outcry of the period to 
which I allude was beyond all precedent, all parallel, 
even in those cases where political motives have sharp- 
ened slander and doubled enmity. I was advised not 
to go to the theatres lest I should be hissed, nor to 
my duty in Parliament, lest I should be insulted by 
the way ; even on the day of my departure my most 
intimate friend told me afterwards that he was under 
the apprehension of violence from the people who might 
be assembled at the door of the carriage." 

Now Lord Byron's charge against his wife 
was that she was directly responsible for get- 
ting up and keeping up this persecution, which 
drove him from England, — that she did it in 
a deceitful, treacherous manner, which left him 
no chance of defending himself. 

He charged against her that, taking advan- 



THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 1 5 

tage of a time when his affairs were in confusion, 
and an execution in the house, she left him sud- 
denly, with treacherous professions of kindness, 
which were repeated by letters on the road, and 
that soon after her arrival at her home her par- 
ents sent him word that she would never return 
to him, and she confirmed the message ; that 
when he asked the reason why, she refused to 
state any ; and that when this step gave rise 
to a host of slanders against him she silently 
encouraged and confirmed the slanders. His 
claim was that he was denied from that time 
forth even the justice of any tangible accusation 
against himself which he might meet and re- 
fute. 

He observes, in the same article from which 
we have quoted : — 

" When one tells me that I cannot ' in any way pis- 
tify my own behavior in that afifair,' I acquiesce, be- 
cause no man can '■justify ' himself until he knows of 
what he is accused ; and I have never had — and, 
God knows, my whole desire has ever been to obtain 



1 6 THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 

it — any specific charge, in a tangible shape, submitted 
to me by the adversary, nor by others, unless the 
atrocities of public rumor and the mysterious silence 
of the lady's legal advisers may be deemed such." 

Lord Byron, his publishers, friends, and biog- 
raphers, thus agree in representing his wife as 
the secret author and abettor of that persecu- 
tion, which it is claimed broke up his Hfe, and 
was the source of all his subsequent crimes 
and excesses. 

Lord Byron wrote a poem in September, 
1816, in Switzerland, just after the separation, 
in which he stated, in so many words, these 
accusations against his wife. Shortly after the 
poet's death Murray pubhshed this poem, to- 
gether with the " Fare thee well," and the lines 
to his sister, under the title of ** Domestic 
Pieces," in his standard edition of Byron's 
poetry. It is to be remarked, then, that this 
was for some time a private document, shown 
to confidential friends, and made use of judi- 
ciously, as readers or listeners to his story 



THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 1/ 

were able to bear it. Lady Byron then had a 
strong party in England. Sir Samuel Rom- 
illy and Dr. Lushington were her counsel. 
Lady Byron's parents were living', and the 
appearance in the public prints of such a 
piece as this would have brought down an ag- 
gravated storm of public indignation. 

For the general public such documents as 
the " Fare thee well " were circulating in Eng- 
land, and he frankly confessed his wife's 
virtues and his own sins to Madame de Stael 
and others in Switzerland, declaring himself 
in the wrons^, sensible of his errors, and \ou^- 
ing to cast himself at the feet of that serene 
perfection, 

" Which wanted one sweet weakness, — to forgive." 
But a little later he drew for his private par- 
tisans this bitter poetical indictment against 
her, which, as we have said, was used dis- 
creetly during his life, and published after his 
death. 

Before we proceed to lay that poem before 



1 8 THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON, 

the reader we will ^ refresh his memory with 
some particulars of the tragedy of ^schylus, 
which Lord Byron selected as the exact par- 
allel and proper illustration of his wife's treat- 
ment of himself In his letters and journals 
he often alludes to her as Clytemnestra, and 
the allusion has run the round of a thousand 
American papers lately, and been read by a 
thousand good honest people, who had no very 
clear idea who Clytemnestra was, and what 
she did which was like the proceedings of 
Lady Byron. According to the tragedy, 
Clytemnestra secretly hates her husband 
Agamemnon, whom she professes to love, and 
wishes to put him out of the way that she 
may marry her lover, ^gistheus. When her 
husband returns from the Trojan war she 
receives him with pretended kindness, and 
officiously offers to serve him at the bath. 
Inducing him to put on a garment, of which 
she had adroitly sewed up the sleeves and 
neck so as to hamper the use of his arms, 



THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. IQ 

she gives the signal to a concealed band of 
assassins, who rush upon him and stab him. 
Clytemnestra is represented by ^schylus 
as grimly triumphing in her success, which 
leaves her free to marry an adulterous para- 
mour. 

" I did it, too, in such a cunning wise, 
That he could neither scape nor ward off doom. 
I staked around his steps an endless net, 

As for the fishes." 

In the piece entitled " Lines on hearing 
Lady Byron is ill," Lord Byron charges on 
his wife a similar treachery and cruelty. 
The whole poem is in Murray's English edi- 
tion. Vol. IV. p. 207. Of it we quote the 
following. The reader will bear in mind that 
it is addressed to Lady Byron on a sick-bed. 

" I am too well avenged, but 't was my right ; 
Whate'er my sins might be, tJiou wert not sent 
To be the Nemesis that should requite, 
Nor did Heaven choose so near an instrument. 
Mercy is for the merciful ! If thou 



20 THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 

Hast been of such, 't will be accorded now. 

Thy nights are banished from the realms of sleep, 

For thou art pillowed on a curse too deep ; 

Yes ! they may flatter thee, but thou shalt feel 

A hollow agony that will not heal. 

Thou hast sown in my sorrow, and must reap 

The bitter harvest in a woe as real. 

I have had many foes, b2it none like thee ; 

For 'gainst the rest myself I could defend, 

And be avenged, or turn them into friend ; 

But thou, in safe implacability, 

Hast naught to dread, — in thy own weakness shieldedj 

And in my love, which hath but too much yielded, 

And spared, for thy sake, some I should not spare. 

And thus upon the world, trust in thy truth. 

And the wild fame of my ungoverned youth, — 

On things that were not and on things that are, — 

Even upon such a basis thou hast built 

A monument whose cement hath been guilt ! 

The moral Clytemnestra of thy lord. 

And hewed down with an unsuspected sword 

Fame, peace, and hope, and all that better life 

Which, but for this cold treason of thy heart. 

Might yet have risen from the grave of strife 

And found a nobler duty than to part. 



THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 21 

But of thy virtues thou didst make a vice, 
Trafficking in them with a purpose cold, 
And buying others' woes at any price, 
For present anger and for future gold ; 
And thus, once entered into crooked ways, 
The early truth, that was thy proper praise, 
Did not still walk beside thee, but at times, 
And with a breast unknowing its own crimes, 
Deceits, averments incompatible, 
Equivocations, and the thoughts that dwell 
In Jamts spirits^ the significant eye 
That learns to lie with silence,* the pretext 
Of prudence with advantages annexed, 
The acquiescence in all things that tend, 
No matter how, to the desired end, — 
All found a place in thy philosophy. 
The means were worthy and the end is won. 
I would not do to thee as thou hast done." 

Now, if this language means anything, it 
means, in plain terms, that, whereas, in her 
early days, Lady Byron was peculiarly char- 
acterized by truthfulness, she has in- her recent 
dealings with him acted the part of a liar, — 

* The italics are mine. 



22 THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 

that she is not only a liar, but that she lies for 
cruel means and malignant purposes, — that she 
is a moral assassin, and her treatment of her hus- 
band has been like that of the most detestable 
murderess and adulteress of ancient history, — 
that she has learned to lie skilfully and artfully, 
that she equivocates, says incompatible things, 
and crosses her own tracks, — that she is double- 
faced, and has the art to lie even by silence, 
and that she has become wholly unscrupulous, 
and acquiesces in a^ij/thmg, no matter what, 
that tends to the desired end, and that end 
the destruction of her husband. This is a 
brief summary of the story that Byron made it 
his life's business to spread through society, to 
propagate and make converts to during his life, 
and which has been in substance reasserted by 
Blackwood in a recent article this year. 

Now, the reader will please to notice that this 
poem is dated in September, 1816, and that on 
the 29th of March, of that same year, he had 
thought proper to tell quite another story. At 



THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 2$ 

that time the deed of separation was not signed, 
and negotiations between Lady Byron, acting 
by legal counsel, and himself were still pending. 
At that time, therefore, he was standing in a 
community who knew all he had said in former 
days of his wife's character, who were in an 
aroused and excited state by the fact that so 
lovely and good and patient a woman had ac- 
tually been forced for some unexplained cause 
to leave him. His policy at that time was to 
make large general confessions of sin, and to 
praise and compliment her, with a view of en- 
listing sympathy. Everybody feels for a hand- 
some sinner, weeping on his knees, asking par- 
don for his offences against his wife in the public 
newspapers. 

The celebrated "Fare thee well," as we are 
told, was written on the 17th of March, and 
accidentally found its way into the newspapers 
at this time "through the imprudence of a 
friend whom he allowed to take a copy." These 
" imprudent friends " have all along been such 
a marvellous convenience to Lord Byron. 



24 THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 

But the question met him on all sides, What 
is the matter ? This wife you have declared the 
brightest, sweetest, most amiable of beings, and 
against whose behavior as a wife -you actually 
never had nor can have a complaint to make, — 
why is she now all of a sudden so inflexibly set 
against you ? 

This question required an answer, and he 
answered by writing another poem, which also 
accidentally found its way into the public prints. 
It is in his "Domestic Pieces," which the reader 
may refer to at the end of this volume, and is 
called "A Sketch." 

There was a most excellent, respectable, well- 
behaved Englishwoman, a Mrs. Clermont,* who 
had been Lady Byron's governess in her youth, 
and was still, in mature life, revered as her 
confidential friend. It appears that this person 
had been with Lady Byron during a part of 

* In Lady Blessington's Memoirs this name is given Chai'le- 
mont ; in the late Temple Bar article on the character of Lady 
Byron it is given Clermont. I have followed the latter. 



THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 25 

her married life, especially the bitter hours 
of her lonely child-bed, when a young wife so 
much needs a sympathetic friend. This Mrs. 
Clermont was the person selected by Lord Byron 
at this time to be the scapegoat to bear away 
the difficulties of the case into the wilderness. 

We are informed in Moore's Life what a noble 
pride of rank Lord Byron possessed, and how 
when the head-master of a school, against whom 
he had a pique, invited him to dinner, he de- 
clined, saying, " To tell you the truth. Doctor, if 
you should come to Newstead, I should n't think 
of inviting yoiL to dine with me, and so I don't 
care to dine with you here." Different countries, 
it appears, have different standards as to good 
taste ; Moore gives this as an amusing instance 
of a young lord's spirit. 

Accordingly, his first attack against this 
"lady," as we Americans should call her, con- 
sists in gross statements concerning her having 
been born poor and in an inferior rank. He 
begins by stating that she was 



26 THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 

" Born in the garret, in the kitchen bred, 
Promoted thence to deck her mistress' head ; 
Next — for some gracious service unexpressed 
And from its wages only to be guessed — 
Raised from the toilet to the table, where 
Her wondering betters wait behind her chair. 
With eye unmoved and forehead unabashed, 
She dines from off the plate she lately washed ; 
Quick with the tale, and ready with the lie, 
The genial confidante and general spy, — 
Who could, ye gods ! her next employment guess, — 
An only ififanfs earliest governess ! 
What had she made the pupil of her art 
None knows ; but that high soul secured the hearty 
And panted for the truth it could not hear 
With lo7igi}tg soul and undeluded ear I " * 

The poet here recognizes as a singular trait 
in Lady Byron her peculiar love of truth, — a 
trait which must have struck every one that 
had any knowledge of her through life. He 
goes on now to give what he certainly knew 
to be the real character of Lady Byron : — 

* The italics are mine. 



THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 2/ 

" Foiled was perversion by that youthful mind, 
Which flattery fooled not, baseness could not blind, 
Deceit infect not, nor contagion soil, 
Indulgence weaken, or example spoil, 
Nor mastered science tempt her to look down 
On humbler talent with a pitying frown, 
Nor genius swell, nor beauty render vain. 
Nor envy ruffle to retaliate pain." 

We are now informed that Mrs. Clermont, 
whom he afterwards says in his letters was a 
spy of Lady Byron's mother, set herself to 
make mischief between them. He says: — 
" If early habits, — those strong links that bind 
At times the loftiest to the meanest mind, — 
Have given her power too deeply to instil 
The angry essence of her deadly will ; 
If like a snake she steal within your walls, 
Till the black slime betray her as she crawls ; 
If like a viper to the heart she wind. 
And leaves the venom there she did not find, — 
What marvel that this hag of hatred works 
Eternal evil latent as she lurks." 

The noble lord then proceeds to abuse this 
woman of inferior rank in the language of the 



28 THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 

upper circles. He thus describes her person 
and manner: — 

" Skilled by a touch to deepen scandal's tints 
With all the kind mendacity of hints, 
While mingling truth with falsehood, sneers with smiles, 
A thread of candor with a web of wiles ; 
A plain blunt show of briefly spoken scheming ; 
A lip of lies ; a face formed to conceal, 
And without feeling mock at all who feel ; 
With a vile mask the Gorgon would disown, — 
A dieek of parchment and an eye of stone. 
Mark how the channels of her yellow blood 
Ooze to her skin and stagnate there to mud, 
Cased like the centipede in saffron mail, 
Or darker greenness of the scorpion's scale, — 
(For drawn from reptiles only may we trace 
Congenial colors in that soul or face,) 
Look on her features ! and behold her mind 
As in a mirror of itself defined : 
Look on the picture ! deem it not o'ercharged ; 
There is no trait which might not be enlarged." 

The poem thus ends: — 

" May the strong curse of crushed affections light 
Back on thy bosom with reflected blight, 



THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 29 

And make thee in thy leprosy of mind 

As loathsome to thyself as to mankind 1 

Till all thy self-thoughts curdle into hate, 

Black — as thy will for others would create ; 

Till thy hard heart be calcined into dust, 

And thy soul welter in its hideous crust. 

O, may thy grave be sleepless as the bed, 

The widowed couch of fire, that thou hast spread ! 

Then when thou fain wouldst weary Heaven with prayer, 

Look on thy earthly victims — and despair ! 

Down to the dust ! and as thou rott'st away, 

Even worms shall perish on thy poisonous clay. 

But for the love I bore and still must bear 

To her thy malice from all ties would tear, 

Thy name, — thy human name, — to every eye 

The climax of all scorn, should hang on high. 

Exalted o'er thy less abhorred compeers. 

And festering in the infamy of years." 

March 29, 1816. 

Now, on the 29th of March, 18 16, this was 
Lord Byron's story. He states that his w4fe had 
a truthfuhiess even from early girlhood that the 
most artful and unscrupulous governess could 



30 THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 

not pollute, — that she always /<^;?/^^ for truth, 
— that flattery could not fool nor baseness blind 
her, — that though she was a genius and master 
of science, she was yet gentle and tolerant, and 
one whom no envy could ruffle to retaliate pain. 

In September of the same year she is a mon- 
ster of unscrupulous deceit and vindictive cruelty. 
Now, what had happened in the five months 
between the dates of these poems to produce 
such a change of opinion? Simply this: — 

1st. The negotiation between him and his 
wife's lawyers had ended in his signing a deed 
of separation in preference to standing a suit 
for divorce. 

2d. Madame de Stael, moved by his tears 
of anguish and professions of repentance, had 
offered to negotiate with Lady Byron on his 
behalf, and had failed. 

The failure of this application is the only 
apology given by Moore and Murray for this 
poem, which gentle Thomas Moore admits was 
not in quite as generous a strain as the "Fare 
thee well." 



THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 3 1 

But Lord Byron knew perfectly well, when 
he suffered that application to be made, that 
Lady Byron had been entirely convinced that 
her marriage relations with him could never be 
renewed, and that duty both to man and God 
required her to separate from him. The allow- 
ing the negotiation was, therefore, an artifice to 
place his wife before the public in the attitude 
of a hard-hearted, inflexible woman ; her refusal 
was what he knew beforehand must inevitably 
be the result, and merely gave him capital in the 
sympathy of his friends, by which they should 
be brought to tolerate and accept the bitter 
accusations of this poem. 

We have recently heard it asserted that this 
last-named piece of poetry was the sudden off*- 
spring of a fit of ill-temper, and was never in- 
tended to be published at all. There were cer- 
tainly excellent reasons why his friends should 
have advised him not to publish it at that time. 
But that it was read with sympathy by the circle 
of his intimate friends, and believed by them, is 



32 THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 

evident from the frequency with which allusions 
to it occur in his confidential letters to them.* 

About three months after, under date March 
lo, 1817, he writes to Moore : " I suppose now I 
shall never be able to shake off my sables in pub- 
lic imagination, more particularly since my moral 

clove down my fame." Again to Murray 

in 1819, three years after, he says: "I never 
hear anything of Ada, the little Electra of 
Mycenae." 

Electra was the daughter of Clytemnestra, in 
the Greek poem, who lived to condemn hei 
wdcked mother, and to call on her brother 
to avenge the father. There was in this men- 
tion of Electra more than meets the ear. Many 
passages in Lord Byron's poetry show that he 
intended to make this daughter a future parti- 
san against her mother, and explain the awful 
words he is stated in Lady Anne Barnard's 
diary, to have used when first he looked on his 

* In Lady Blessington's conversations with Lord Byron, just 
before he went to Greece, she records that he gave her this 
poem in manuscript. It was published in her Journal. 



THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 33 

little girl, — " What an instrument of torture I 
have gained in you ! " 

In a letter to Lord Blessington, April 6, 1823, 
he says, speaking of Dr. Parr : * — 

" He did me the honor once to be a patron of mine, 
though a great friend of the other branch of the house 
of Atreus, and the Greek teacher, I beh'eve, of my moral 
Clytemnestra. I say 7tioral because it is true, and is so 
useful to the virtuous, that it enables them to do any- 
thing without the aid of an ^gistheus." 

If Lord Byron wrote this poem merely in a 
momentary fit of spleen, why were there so 
many persons evidently quite familiar with 
his allusions to it? and why was it preserved 
in Murray's hands ? and why published after 
his death ? That Byron was in the habit of 
reposing documents in the hands of Murray, 
to be used as occasion offered, is evident from 
a part of a note written by him to Murray 
respecting some verses so intrusted : " Pray let 

* Vol. VI. p. 22. 



34 THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 

not these versictUi go forth with my name 
except to the initiated^ * 

Murray, in pubhshing this attack on his wife 
after Lord Byron's death, showed that he be- 
Heved in it, and, so beheving, deemed Lady 
Byron a woman whose widowed state deserved 
neither sympathy nor dehcacy of treatment. 
At a time when every sentiment in the heart 
of the most deeply wronged woman would forbid 
her appearing to justify herself from such cruel 
slander of a dead husband, an honest, kind- 
hearted, worthy Englishman actually thought it 
right and proper to give these lines to her eyes 
and the eyes of all the reading world. Noth- 
ing can show more plainly what this poem was 
written for, and how thoroughly it did its work ! 
Considering Byron as a wronged man, Murray 
thought he was contributing his mite towards 
doing him justice. His editor prefaced the 
whole set of " Domestic Pieces " v/ith the fol- 
lowing statements : — 

* Byron's Miscellany, Vol. II. p. 358. London, 1853. 



THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 35 

*• They all refer to the unhappy separation, of which the 
precise causes are still a mystery, and which he declared 
to the las-t were never disclosed to himself. He admitted 
that pecuniary embarrassments, disordered health, and 
dislike to family restraints had aggravated his naturally 
violent temper and driven him to excesses. He suspect- 
ed that his mother-in-law had fomented the discord, — 
which Lady Byron denies, — and that more was due to 
the malignant offices of a female dependant, who is the 
subject of the bitterly satirical sketch. 

" To these general statements can only be added the 
still vaguer allegations of Lady Byron, that she conceived 
his conduct to be the result of insanity, — that, the phy- 
sician pronouncing him responsible for his actions, she 
could submit to them no longer, and that Dr. Lush- 
ington, her legal adviser; agreed that a reconciliation 
was neither proper nor possible. No weight can be 
attached to the opinions of an opposing coitnsel upon 
accusations made by one party behind the back of the 
other, who urgently demanded and was pertinaciously 
refused the least opportunity of denial or defence. He 
rejected the proposal for an amicable separation, but co7i- 
sejited whe7i threatened with a suit in Doctors'' Com- 
mons.^' * 

* The italics are mine. 



36 THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 

Neither honest Murray nor any of Byron s 
partisans seem to have pondered the admis- 
sion in these last words. 

Here, as appears, was a woman, driven to 
the last despair, standing with her child in 
her arms, asking from English laws protec- 
tion for herself and child against her hus- 
band 

She had appealed to the first counsel in 
England, and was acting under their direc- 
tion. 

Two of the greatest lawyers in England have 
pronounced that there has been such a cause 
of offence on his part that a return to him is 
neither proper nor possible, and that no alter- 
native remains to her but separation or divorce. 

He asks her to state her charges against him. 
She, making answer under advice of her coun- 
sel, says, " That if he insists on the specifica- 
tions, he must receive them in open court in 
a suit for divorce." 

What, now, ought to have been the conduct 



THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 37 

of any brave, honest man, who beheved that 
his wife was taking advantage of her reputation 
for virtue to turn every one against him, who 
saw that she had turned on her side even the 
lawyer he sought to retain on his ; * that she 
was an unscrupulous woman, who acquiesced 
in every and any thing to gain her ends, while 
he stood before the public, as he says, " accused 
of every monstrous vice, by public rumor or 
private rancor " ? When she, under advice of 
her lawyers, made the alternative legal separa- 
tion or open investigation in court for divorce, 
what did he do ? 

* Lord Byron says, in his observations on an article in 
Blackwood : ■' I recollect being much hurt by Romilly's con- 
duct : he (having a general retainer for me) went over to the 
adversary, alleging, on being reminded of his retainer, that 
he had forgotten it, as his clerk had so many. I observed 
that some of those who were now so eagerly laying the axe 
to my roof-tree might see their own shaken. His fell and 
crushed him." 

In the first edition of Moore's Life of Lord Byron there 
was printed a letter on Sir Samuel Romilly, so brutal that 
it was suppressed in the subsequent editions. (See Appendix.) 



38 THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 

He signed the act of separation and 
LEFT England. 

Now, let any man who knows the legal mind 
of England, — let any lawyer who knows the 
character of Sir Samuel Romilly and Dr. 
Lushington, ask whether tJicy were the men to 
take a case into court for a woman that had 
no evidence but her own statements and im- 
pressions 1 Were tJiey men to go to trial 
without proofs 1 Did they not know that there 
were artful, hysterical women in the world, 
and would tJicy, of all people, be the men to 
take a woman's story on her own side, and 
advise her in the last issue to bring it into 
open court, without legal proof of the strongest 
kind } Now, as long as Sir Samuel Romilly 
lived, this statement of Byron's — that he was 
condemned unheard, and had no chance of 
knowing whereof he zuas accused — never ap- 
peared in public. 

It, however, was most actively circulated in 
private. That Byron was in the habit of intrust- 



THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 39 

ing to different confidants articles of various 
kinds to be shown to different circles as they 
could bear them, we have already shown. We 
have recently come upon another instance of this 
kind. In the late eagerness to exculpate Byron, 
a new document has turned up, of which honest 
John Murray, it appears, had never heard when, 
after Byron's death, he published in the preface 
to his "Domestic Pieces" the sentence: ''He 
rejected the proposal for an amicable separation, 
but consented wJien tJireatened with a stiit in Doc- 
tors Commonsy It appears that, up to 1853, 
neither John Murray senior, nor the son who 
now fills his place, had taken any notice of this 
newly found document, which we are now in- 
formed " was drawn up by Lord Byron in August, 
18 17, while Mr. Hobhouse was staying with him 
at La Mira, near Venice, given to Mr. Matthew 
Gregory Lewis, for circulation among friends in 
England, found in Mr. Lewis's papers after his 
death, and now in the possession of Mr. Mur- 
ray." Here it is : — 



40 THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 

" It has been intimated to me that the persons under- 
stood to be the legal advisers of Lady Byron have de- 
clared ' their lips to be sealed up ' on the cause of the 
separation between her and myself. If their lips are 
sealed up, they are not sealed up by me, and the greatest 
favor they can confer upon me will be to open them. 
From the first hour in which I was apprised of the inten- 
tions of the Noel family to the last communication be- 
tween Lady Byron and myself in the character of wife 
and husband (a period of some months), I called repeat- 
edly and in vain- for a statement of their or her charges, 
and it was chiefly in consequence of Lady Byron's claim- 
ing (in a letter still existing) a promise on my part to 
consent to a separation, if such was really her wish, 
that I consented at all ; this claim, and the exasperating 
and inexpiable manner in which their object was pur- 
sued, which rendered it next to an impossibility that 
two persons so divided could ever be reunited, induced 
me reluctantly then, and repentantly still, to sign the 
deed, which I shall be happy — most happy — to cancel, 
and go before any tribunal which may discuss the busi- 
ness in the most public manner. 

" Mr. Hobhouse made this proposition on my part, 
viz. to abrogate all prior intentions — and go into court 
— the very day before the separation was signed, and 



TPIE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 4 1 

it was declined by the other party, as also the publication 

of the correspondence during the previous discussion. 

Those propositions I beg here to repeat, and to call 

upon her and hers to say their worst, pledging myself 

to meet their allegations, — whatever they may be, — 

and only too happy to be informed at last of their real 

nature. 

" BYRON." 

"August 9, 1817. 
" P. S. — I have been, and am now, utterly ignorant 
of what description her allegations, charges, or what- 
ever name they may have assumed, are ; and am as 
little aware for what purpose they have been kept back, 
— unless it was to sanction the most infamous calumnies 

by silence. 

" BYRON. 
" La Mira, near Venice." 

It appears the circulation of this document 
must have been very private, since Moore, not 
ovej^-deVicQ-tQ towards Lady Byron, did not think 
fit to print it ; since John Murray neglected it, 
and since it has come out at this late hour for 
the first time. 

If Lord Byron really desired Lady Byron and 



42 THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 

her legal counsel to understand the facts herein 
stated, and was willing at all hazards to bring 
on an open examination, why was this privately 
circulated ? Why not issued as a card in the 
London papers ? Is it likely that Mr. Mat- 
thew Gregory Lewis, and a chosen band of 
friends acting as a committee, requested an 
audience with Lady Byron, Sir Samuel Romilly, 
and Dr. Lushington, and formally presented this 
cartel of defiance } 

We incline to think not. We incline to 
think that this small serpent, in company 
with many others of like kind, crawled secret- 
ly and privately around, and when it found a 
good chance, bit an honest Briton, whose blood 
was thenceforth poisoned by an undetected false- 
hood. 

The reader now may turn to the letters that 
Mr. Moore has thought fit to give us of this stay 
at La Mira, befrinnins: with Letter 286, dated 
July I, 18 1 7,* wdiere he says: "I have been 

* Vol. IV. p. 40. 



THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 43 

working up my impressions into a Fotu'th Canto 
of Childe Harold," and also " Mr. Lewis is in 
Venice. I am going up to stay a week with 
him there." 

Next, under date La Mira, Venice, July lo,* 
he says : " Monk Lewis is here ; how pleasant ! " 

Next, under date July 20, 18 17, to Mr. Mur- 
ray : " I write to give you notice that I have 
completed the foitrtJi and ultimate canto . of 
Childe Harold. .... It is yet to be copied and 
poUshed, and the notes are to come." 

Under date of La Mira, August 7, 181 7, he 
records that the new canto is one hundred and 
thirty stanzas in length, and talks about the price 
for it. He is now ready to launch it on the world ; 
and, as now appears, on August 9, 18 17, tzvo days 
after, he wrote the document above cited, and put 
it into the hands of Mr. Lewis, as we are informed, 
*' for circulation among friends in England." 

The reason of this may now be evident. Hav- 
ing prepared a suitable number of those whom 

* Vol. IV. p. 46. 



44 THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 

he calls in his notes to Murray " the initiated," 
by private documents and statements, he is now- 
prepared to publish his accusations against his 
wife, and the story of his wrongs, in a great im- 
mortal poem, which shall have a band of initiated 
interpreters, shall be read through the civilized 
world, and stand to accuse her after his death. 

In the Fourth Canto of " Childe Harold," with 
all his own overwhelming power of language, he 
sets forth his cause as against the silent woman 
who all this time had been making no party, and 
telling no story, and whom the world would there- 
fore conclude to be silent because she had no 
answer to make. I remember well the time when 
this poetry, so resounding in its music, so mourn- 
ful, so apparently generous, filled my heart with 
a vague anguish of sorrow for the sufferer, and 
of indignation at the cold insensibility that had 
maddened him. Thousands have felt the power 
of this great poem, which stands, and must stand 
to all time, a monument of what sacred and 
solemn powers God gave to this wicked man, 



THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 45 

and how vilely he abused this power as a weapon 
to slay the innocent. 

It is among the ruins of ancient Rome 
that his voice breaks forth in solemn impre- 
cation : — 

"O Time, thou beautifier of the dead, 
Adorner of the ruin, comforter, 
And only healer when the heart hath bled ! 
Time, the corrector when our judgments err. 
The test of truth, love, — sole philosopher. 
For all besides are sophists, — from thy shrift 
That never loses, though it doth defer ! 
Time, the avenger ! unto thee I lift 

My hands and heart and eyes, and claim of thee a gift. 

" If thou hast ever seen me too elate. 
Hear me not ; but if calmly I have borne 
Good, and reserved my pride against the hate 
Which shall not whelm me, let me not have worn 
This iron in my sotil in vain^ — shall they not 

mourti ? 
And thou who never yet of human wrong 
Left the unbalanced scale, great Nemesis, 
Here where the ancients paid their worship long. 



4.6 THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 

Thou who didst call the Furies from the abyss, 

And round Orestes bid them howl and hiss 

J^or that iui7iatiiral rctribittion^ — just 

Had it but come from hands less near^ — in this 

Thy former realm 1 call thee from the dust. 

Dost thou not hear my heart ? awake thou shalt and 

must ! 
It is not that I may not have incurred 
For my ancestral faults, and mine the wound 
Wherewith I bleed withal, and had it been conferred 
With a just weapon it had flowed unbound, 
But now my blood shall not sink in the ground. 

" But in this page a record will I seek ; 
Not in the air shall these my words disperse. 
Though I be ashes, — a far hour shall wreak 
The deep prophetic fulness of this verse, 
And pile on human heads the mountain of my curse. 
That curse shall be forgiveness. Have I not, — 
Hear me, my Mother Earth ! behold it, Heaven, — 
Have I not had to wrestle with my lot ? 
Have I not suffered things to be forgiven ? 
Have I not had my brain seared, my heart riven, 
Hopes sapped, name blighted, life's life lied away, 
And only not to desperation driven. 



THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 4/ 

Because not altogether of such clay 

As rots into the soul of those whom I survey ? 



" From mighty wrongs to petty perfidy, 
Have I not seen what human things could do, — 
From the loud roar of foaming calumny, 
To the small whispers of the paltry few, 
And subtler venom of the reptile crew, 
The yaftus glance of whose significant eye^ 
Learning to lie with silence^ would seem trice, 
And without utterance, save the shrug or sigh, 
Deal round to happy fools its speechless obloquy f " * 

The reader will please notice that the lines in 
italics are almost, word for word, a repetition of 
the lines in italics in the former poem on his 
wife, where he speaks of a significant eye that 
has learned to lie in silence^ and were evidently 
meant to apply to Lady Byron and her small 
circle of confidential friends. 

Before this, in the Third Canto of "Childe 
Harold," he had claimed the sympathy of the 

* The italics are mine. 



48 THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 

world, as a loving father, deprived by a severe 
fate of the solace and society of his only child: — 

*' My daughter, — with this name my song began, — 
My daughter, — with this name my song shall end, — 
I see thee not and hear thee not, but none 
Can be so wrapped in thee ; thou art the friend 
To whom the shadows of far years extend. 

"To aid thy mind's developments, to watch 
The dawn of little joys, to sit and see 
Almost thy very growth, to view thee catch 
Knowledge of objects, — wonders yet to thee, — 
And print on thy soft cheek a parent's kiss, — 
This it should seem was not reserved for me. 
Yet this was in my nature, — as it is, 
I know not what there is, yet something like to this. 



" Vet though dull hate as duty should be taught^ 
I know that thou wilt love me ; though my name 
Should be shut out from thee as spell still fraught 
With desolation and a broken claim, 
Though the grave close between us, — 't were the same. 
I know that thou wilt love me, though to drain 
My blood from out thy being were an aim 
And an attainment, — all will be in vain." 



THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 49 

To all these charges against her, sent all over 
the world in verses as eloquent as the English 
language is capable of, the wife replied noth- 
ing. 'As a lamb before her shearers is dumb, 
so she opened not her mouth.' 

" Assailed by slander and the tongue of strife, 
Her only answer was, — a blameless life." 

She had a few friends, a very few, with whom 
she sought solace and sympathy. One letter 
from her, written at this time, preserved by acci- 
dent, is the only authentic record of how the 
matter stood with her. 

We regret to say that the publication of this 
document was not brought forth to clear Lady 
Byron's name from her husband's slanders, but 
to shield Jiwt from the worst accusation against 
him, by showing that this crime was not in- 
cluded in the few private confidential revela- 
tions that friendship wrung from the young 
wife at this period. 

Lady Anne Barnard, authoress of "Auld 
Robin Grey," a friend, whose age and experience 
3 



50 THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 

made her a proper confidant, sent for the 
broken-hearted, perplexed wife, and offered her 
a woman's sympathy. 

To her Lady Byron wrote many letters, under 
seal of confidence, and Lady Anne says : " I will 
give you a few paragraphs transcribed from one 
of Lady Byron's own letters to me. It is sor- 
rowful to think that in a very little time this 
young and amiable creature, wise, patient, and 
feeling, will have her character mistaken by 
every one who reads Byron's works. To rescue 
her from this I preserved her letters, and when 
she afterwards expressed a fear that anything 
of her writing should ever fall into hands to in- 
jure him (I suppose she meant by pubHcation), 
I safely assured her that it never should. But 
here this letter shall be placed, a sacred rec- 
ord in her favor, unknown to herself." 

"I am a very incompetent judge of the impression 
which the last Canto of 'Childe Harold' may produce on 
the minds of indifferent readers. 

'' It contains the usual trace of a conscience restlessly 



THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 5 I 

awake, though his object has been too long to aggra- 
vate its burden, as if it could thus be oppressed into 
eternal stupor. I will hope, as you do, that it survives 
for his ultimate good. 

" It was the acuteness of his remorse, impenitent in 
its character, which so long seemed to demand from 
my compassion to spare every semblance of reproach, 
every look of grief, which might have said to his con- 
science, ' You have made me wretched.' 

" I am decidedly of opinion that he is responsible. He 
has wished to be thought partially deranged, or on the 
brink of it, to perplex observers and prevent them from 
tracing effects to their I'eal causes through all the intrica- 
cies of his conduct. I was, as I told you, at one time the 
dupe of his acted insanity, and clung to the former 
delusions in regard to the motives that concerned me 
personally, till the whole system was laid bare. 

" He is the absolute monarch of words, and uses 
them, as Bonaparte did lives, for conquest, without more 
regard to their intrinsic value, considering them only 
as ciphers, which must derive all their import from the 
situation in which he places them, and the ends to 
which he adapts them, with such consummate skill. 

" Why, then, you will say, does he not employ them 
to give a better color to his own character 1 Because 



52 THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 

he is too good an actor to over-act, or to assume a 
moral garb, which it would be easy to strip oflf. 

" In regard to his poetry, egotism is the vital princi- 
ple of his imagination, which it is difficult for him to 
kindle on any subject with which his own character 
and interests are not identified ; but by the introduction 
of fictitious incidents, by change of scene or time, he 
has enveloped his poetical disclosures in a system impen- 
etrable except to a very few, and his constant desire 
of creating a sensation makes him not averse to be the 
object of wonder and curiosity, even though accompanied 
by sojne dark and vague suspicions. 

" Nothing has contributed more to the misunderstand- 
ing of his real character than the lonely grandeur in 
which he shrouds it, and his affectation of being above 
mankind, when he exists almost in their voice. The 
romance of his sentiments is another feature of this 
mask of state. I know no one more habitually destitute 
of that enthusiasm he so beautifully expresses, and to 
which he can work up his fancy chiefly by contagion. 

" / had heard he was the best of brothers, the 7nost 
generous of friends, and I thought such feelings only 
required to be warmed and cherished into 7nore diffusive 
benevolence. Though these opinions are eradicated, and 
could never return but with the decay of my memory^ 



THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 53 

you will not wonder if there are still moments when 
the association of feelings which arose from them soften 
and sadden my thoughts. 

" But I have not thanked you, dearest Lady Anne, 
for your kindness in regard to a principal object, — that 
of rectifying false impressions. I trust you understand 
my wishes, which never were to injure Lord Byron in 
any way ; for, though he would not suffer me to remain 
his wife, he ca7inot prevent me from contiitznng his friend j 
and it was from considering myself as such that I silenced 
the accusations by which my ow7i conduct i7iight have 
been more fully justified. 

" It is not necessary to speak ill of his heart in gen- 
eral ; it is sufficient that to me it was hard and impen- 
etrable, — that my own must have been broken before 
his could have been touched. I would rather represent 
this as my misfortune than as his guilt ; but, surel}^, 
that misfortune is not to be made my crime ! Such 
are my feelings ; you will judge how to act. 

" His allusions to me in ' Childe Harold ' are cruel and 
cold, but with such a semblance as to make me appear 
so, and to attract all sympathy to himself. It is said 
in this poem that hatred of him will be taught as a 
lesson to his child. I might appeal to all who have ever 
heard me speak of him, and still more to my own heart, 
5* 



54 THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 

to witness that there has been no moment when I have 

remembered injury otherwise than affectionately and 

sorrowfully. 

"It is not my duty to give way to hopeless and wholly 

unrequited affection ; but, so long as I live, my chief 

struggle will probably be not to remember him too 

kindly. I do not seek the sympathy of the world, but 

I wish to be known by those whose opinion is valuable 

and whose kindness is dear to me. Among such, my 

dear Lady Anne, you will ever be remembered by your 

truly affectionate 

"A. BYRON." 

On this letter I observe Lord Lindsay remarks 
that it shows a noble but rather severe charac- 
ter, and a recent author has remarked that it 
seemed to be written rather in a " cold spirit of 
criticism." It seems to strike these gentlemen as 
singular that Lady Byron did not enjoy the poem ! 
But there are two remarkable sentences in this 
letter which have escaped the critics hitherto. 
Lord Byron, in this, the Third Canto of " Childe 
Harold," expresses in most affecting words an 
enthusiasm of love for his sister. So long as he 



THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 55 

lived he was her faithful correspondent ; he sent 
her his journals ; and, dying, he left her and her 
children everything he had in the world. This 
certainly seems like an affectionate brother ; but 
in what words does Lady Byron speak of this 
affection ? 

" I /lad heard he zvas the best of bivthers, 
the most generous of friends. I thought these 
feelings only required to be w^armed and cherished 
into more diffusive benevolence. These opinions 

ARE ERADICATED, AND COULD-NEVER RETURN BUT 

WITH THE DECAY OF MEMORY." Let me ask those 
who give this letter as a proof that at this time no 
idea such as I have stated was in Lady Byron's 
mind, to account for these words. Let them please 
answer these questions : Why had Lady Byron 
ceased to think him a good brother } Why does 
she use so strong a word as that the opinion was 
eradicated, torn up by the roots, and could 
never grow again in her except by decay of 
memory } 

And yet this is a document Lord Lindsay 



56 THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 

vouches for as authentic, and which he brings 
forward in defence of Lord Byron. 

Again she says, " Though he would not stiff er 
me to remain his zvife, he cannot prevent me 
from continuing his friend." Do these words not 
say that in some past time, in some decided 
manner. Lord Byron had declared to her his 
rejection of her as a wife ? I shall yet have 
occasion to explain these words. 

Again she says, *' I silenced accusations by 
which my conduct might have been more fully 
justified." 

The people in England who are so very busy 
in searching out evidence against my true story 
have searched out and given to the world an 
important confirmation of this assertion of Lady 
Byron's. 

It seems that the confidential waiting-maid 
who went with Lady Byron on her wedding 
journey has been sought out and interrogated, 
and, as appears by description, is a venerable, 
respectable old person, quite in possession of all 



THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 57 

her senses in general, and of that sixth sense 
of propriety in particular, which appears not to 
be a common virtue in our days. 

As her testimony is important, we insert it 
just here, with a description of her person in 
full. The ardent investigators thus speak : — 

" Having gained admission, we were shown into a 
small but neatly furnished and scrupulously clean ajDart- 
ment, where sat the object of our visit. Mrs. Minns is 
a venerable-looking old lady, o.f short stature, slight and 
active appearance, with a singularly bright and intelli- 
gent countenance. Although midway between eighty and 
ninety years of age, she is in full possession of her fac- 
ulties, discourses freely and cheerfully, hears apparently 
as well as ever she did, and her sight is so good that, 
aided by a pair of spectacles, she reads the Chronicle 
every day with ease. Some idea of her competency to 
contribute valuable evidence to the subject which now 
so much engages public attention on three continents 
may be found from her own narrative of her personal 
relations with Lady Byron. Mrs. Minns was born in 
the neighborhood of Seaham, and knew Lady Byron 
from childhood. During the long period of ten years 
she was Miss Milbanke's lady's-maid, and in that 
3* 



58 THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 

capacity became the close confidante of her mistress. 
There were circumstances which rendered their relation- 
ship peculiarly intimate. Miss Milbanke had no sister 
or female friend to whom she was bound by the ties of 
more than a common affection ; and her mother, whatever 
other excellent qualities she may have possessed, was 
too high-spirited and too hasty in temper to attract the 
sympathies of the young. Some months before Miss 
Milbanke was married to Lord Byron Mrs. Minns had 
quitted her service on the occasion of her own marriage 
with Mr. Minns, but she continued to reside in the 
neighborhood of Seaham, and remained on the most 
friendly terms with her former mistress. As the court- 
ship proceeded, Miss Milbanke concealed nothing from 
her faithful attendant, and when the wedding-day was 
fixed she begged Mrs. Minns to return and fulfil the 
duties of lady's-maid, at least during the honeymoon. 
Mrs. Minns at the time was nursing her first child, and 
it was no small sacrifice to quit her own home at such 
a moment, but she could not refuse her old mistress's 
request. Accordingly, she returned to Seaham Hall 
some days before the wedding, was present at the 
ceremony, and then preceded Lord and Lady Byron to 
Halnaby Hall, near Croft, in the North Riding of 
Yorkshire, one of Sir Ralph Milbanke's seats, where 



THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 59 

the newly married couple v/ere to spend the honeymoon. 
Mrs. Minns remained with Lord and Lady Byron during 
the three weeks they spent at Halnaby Hall, and then 
accompanied them to Seaham, where they spent the 
next six weeks. It was during the latter period that 
she finally quitted Lady Byron's service, but she re- 
mained in the most friendly communication with her 
Ladyship till the death of the latter, and for some time 
was living in the neighborhood of Lady Byron's resi- 
dence in Leicestershire, where she had frequent oppor- 
tunities of seeing her former mistress. It may be added 
that Lady Byron was not unmindful of the faithful 
services of her friend and attendant in the instruc- 
tions to her executors contained in her will. Such 
was the position of Mrs. Minns towards Lady Byron, 
and we think no one will question that it was of a 
nature to entitle all that Mrs. Minns may say on the 
subject of the relations of Lord and Lady Byron to 
the most respectful consideration and credit," 

Such is the chronicler's account of the faithful 
creature, whom nothing but intense indignation 
and disgust at Mrs. Beecher Stowe would lead to 
speak on her mistress's affairs ; but Mrs. Beecher 



60 THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 

Stowe feels none the less sincere respect for her, 
and is none the less obliged to her for having 
spoken. Much of Mrs. Minns's testimony will 
be referred to in another place ; we only extract 
one passage, to show that while Lord Byron 
spent his time in setting afloat slanders against 
his wife, she spent hers in seaUng the mouths of 
witnesses against him. 

Of the period of the honeymoon Mrs. Minns 
says : — 

" The happiness of Lady Byron, however, was of brief 
duration ; even during the short three weeks they spent 
at Halnaby the irregularities of Lord Byron occasioned 
her the greatest distress, and she even contemplated re- 
turning to her father. Mrs. Minns was her constant 
companion and confidante through this painful period, 
and she does not beheve that her ladyship concealed a 
thought from her. Wzih laudable reticence, the old lady 
absolutely refuses to disclose the particulars of Lord 
Byron'' s misconduct at this time j she gave Lady Byron 
a solemn promise not to do so. 

" So serious did Mrs. Minns consider the conduct of 



THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 01 

Lord Byron, that she recommended her mistress to confide 
all the circumstances to her father, Sir Ralph Milbanke, a 
calm, kind, and most excellent parent, and take his advice 
as to her future course. At one time Mrs. Minns thinks 
Lady Byron had resolved to follow her counsel and im- 
part her wrongs to Sir Ralph ; but on arriving at Seaham 
Hall her ladyship strictly enjoined Mrs. Minns to pre- 
serve absolute silence on the subject, — a course which 
she followed herself, — so that when, six weeks later, she 
and Lord Byron left Seaham for London, not a word had 
escaped her to disturb her parents' tranquillity as to their 
daughter's domestic happiness. As might be expected, 
Mrs. Minns bears the warmest testimony to the noble and 
lovable qualities of her departed mistress. She also 
declares that Lady Byron was by no means of a cold 
temperament, but that the affectionate impulses of her 
nature were checked by the unkind treatment she ex- 
perienced from her husband." 

We have already shown that Lord Byron had 
been, ever since his separation, engaged in a 
systematic attempt to reverse the judgment of 
the world against himself, by making converts 
of all his friends to a most odious view of his 



62 THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 

wife's character, and inspiring them with the zeal 
of propagandists to spread these views through 
society. We have seen how he prepared par- 
tisans to interpret the Fourth Canto of " Childe 
Harold." 

This plan of solemn and heroic accusation was 
the first public attack on his wife. Next we see 
him commencing a scurrilous attempt to turn 
her to ridicule in the First Canto of " Don Juan." 

It is to our point now to show how carefully 
and cautiously this Don Juan campaign was 
planned. 

Vol. IV. p. 138, we find Letter 325 to Mr. 

Murray : — 

" Venice, January 25, 1819. 

" You will do me the favor to p7'int privately^ for 
private distribution^ fifty copies of ''Don Jitan.'' The 
list of the men to whom 1 wish it presented I will 
send hereafter." 

The poem, as will be remembered, begins 
with the meanest and foulest attack on his 
wife that ever ribald wrote, and put it in close 



THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 6} 

neighborhood with scenes which every pure 
man or woman must feel to be the beastly utter- 
ances of a man who had lost all sense of decency. 
Such a potion was too strong to be administered 
even in a time when great license was allowed, and 
men were not over-nice. But Byron chooses fifty 
armor-bearers of that class of men who would find 
indecent ribaldry about a wife a good joke, and 
talk about the " artistic merits " of things which 
we hope would make an honest boy blush. 

At this time he acknowledges that his vices 
had brought him to a state of great exhaustion, 
attended by such debility of the stomach that 
nothing remained on it ; and adds, " I was 
obliged to reform my way of life, which was 
conducting me from the yellow leaf to the 
ground with all deliberate speed." * But as his 
health is a little better he employs it in making 
the way to death and hell elegantly easy for other 
young men, by breaking down the remaining 
scruples of a society not over-scrupulous. 
* Vol. IV. p. 143. 



64 THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 

Society revolted, however, and fought stout- 
ly against the nauseous dose. Even his sister 
wrote to him that she heard such things said 
of it that sJie never would read it ; and the 
outcry against it on the part of all women of 
his acquaintance was such that for a time he 
was quite overborne ; and the Countess Guic- 
cioli finally extorted a promise from him to 
cease writing it. Nevertheless, there came a 
time when England accepted " Don Juan," — 
when Wilson, in the Noctes Ambrosianae, praised 
it as a classic, and took every opportunity to 
reprobate Lady Byron's conduct. When first 
it appeared the Blackwood came out with 
that indignant denunciation of which we have 
spoken, and to which Byron replied in the 
extracts we have already quoted. He did 
something more than reply. He marked out 
Wilson as one of the strongest literary men 
of the day, and set his " initiated " with their 
documents to work upon him. 

One of these documents to which he re- 



THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 65 

quested Wilson's attention was the private au- 
tobiography, written expressly to give his own 
story of all the facts of the marriage and sep- 
aration. 

In the indignant letter he writes Murray 
on the Blackwood article, Vol. IV. Letter 
350, — under date December lo, 1819, — he 
says : — 

" I sent home for Moore, and for Moore only (who 
has my journal also), my memoir written up to 1816, 
and I gave him leave to show it to whom he pleased, 
but not to publish on any account. You may read it, 
and you may let Wilson read it if he Hkes, — not for 
his public opinion, but his private, for I like the man, 
and care very little about the magazine. And I could 
wish Lady Byron herself to read it, that she may have 
it in her power to mark anything mistaken or mis- 
stated. As it will never appear till after my extinction, it 
would be but fair she should see it ; that is to say, her- 
self willing. Your Blackwood accuses me of treating 
women harshly ; but I have been their martyr ; my 
whole life has been sacrificed to them and by them." 

It was a part of Byron's policy to place 

E 



66 THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 

Lady Byron in positions before the world 
where she cou/d not speak, and where her 
silence would be set down to her as haughty, 
stony indifference and obstinacy. Such was 
the pretended negotiation through Madame de 
Stael, and such now this apparently fair and 
generous offer to let Lady Byron see and mark 
this manuscript. 

The little Ada is now in her fifth 3'^ear,. — 
a child of singular sensibility and remarkable 
mental powers, — one of those exceptional chil- 
dren who are so perilous a charge for a mother. ■ 

Her husband proposes this artful snare to 
her, — that she shall mark what is false in a 
statement which is all built on a damning 
lie, that she cannot refute over that daughter's 
head, — and which would perhaps be her ruin 
to discuss. 

Hence came an addition of two more docu- 
ments, to be used "privately among friends,"* 

* Lord Byron took especial pains to point out to Murray 
the importance of these two letters. Vol. V. Letter 443, he 



THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 6/ 

and which Blackwood uses after Lady Byron 
is safely out of the world to cast ignominy on 
her grave, — the wife's letter, that of a mother 
standing at bay for her daughter, knowing that 
she is dealing with a desperate, powerful, un- 
scrupulous enemy. 

" KiRKBY Mallory, March lo, 1820. 
"I received your letter of January i, offering to my 
perusal a Memoir of part of your life. I decline to in- 
spect it. I consider the publication or circulation of 
such a composition at any time as prejudicial to Ada's 
future happiness. For my own sake, I have no reason 
to shrink from publication ; but, notwithstanding the 
injuries which I have suffered, I should lament some 

of the co7isequences. 

" A. Byron. 
"To Lord Byron." 

Lord Byron, writing for the public, as is his 
custom, makes reply : — 

says : " You must also have from Mr. Moore the correspond- 
ence between me and Lady B., to whom I offered a sight 
of all that concerns herself in these papers. This is important. 
He has her letter and my answer." 



68 THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 

" Ravenna, April 3, 1820. 
" I received yesterday your answer, dated March 10. 
My offer was an honest one, and surely could only be 
construed as such, even by the most malignant casuistry. 
I could answer you, but it is too late, and it is not worth 
while. To the mysterious menace of the last sentence, 
whatever its import maybe, — and I cannot pretend to 
unriddle it, — I could hardly be very sensible even if I 
understood it, as, before it can take place, I shall be 
where ' nothing can touch him further.' .... I advise 
you, however, to anticipate the period of your intention, 
for, be assured, no power of figures can avail beyond the 
present ; and if it could, I would answer with the Floren- 
tine : — 

" * Ed io, die posto son con loro in croce 

e certo 

La fiera moglie, piii ch' altro, mi nuoce.' * 

" Byron. 
"To Lady Byron." 

Two things are very evident in this corre- 
spondence. Lady Byron intimates that, if he 

" And I, who with them on the cross am placed, 

truly 

My savage wife, more than aught else, doth harm me." 
Inferno, Canto XVI., Longfellow's translation. 



THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 69 

publishes his story, some consequences must fol- 
low which she shall regret. 

Lord Byron receives this as a threat, and 
says he does n't understand it. But directly 
after he says, " Before it can take place, I shall 
be," &c. 

The intimation is quite clear. He does un- 
derstand what the consequences alluded to are. 
They are evidently that Lady Byron will speak 
out and tell her story. He says she cannot 
do this till after he is dead, and then he shall 
not care. In allusion to her accuracy as to 
dates and figures, he says : " Be assured no 
power of figures can avail beyond this pres- 
ent " (life) ; and then ironically advises her to 
anticipate the period, — i. e. to speak out while 
he is alive. 

In Vol. VI. Letter 518, which Lord Byron 
wrote to Lady Byron, but did not send, he 
says : " I burned your last note for two rea- 
sons, — firstly, because it was written in a style 
not very agreeable ; and, secondly, because I 



70 THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 

wished to take your word without documents, 
which are the resources of worldly and sus- 
picious people." 

It would appear from this that there was a 
last letter of Lady Byron to her husband, 
which he did not think proper to keep on 
hand, or show to the " initiated " with his 
usual unreserve ; that this letter contained 
soQie kind of pledge for which he preferred to 
take her word, zvithoiit documents. 

Each reader can imagine for himself what 
that pledge might have been ; but from the 
tenor of the three letters we should infer that 
it was a promise of silence for his lifetime, on 
certain conditions, and that the publication of 
the - autobiography would violate those condi- 
tions, and make it her duty to speak out. 

This celebrated autobiography forms so con- 
spicuous a figure in the whole history, that 
the reader must have a full idea of it, as given 
by Byron himself, in Vol. IV. Letter 344, to 
Murray : — 



THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 7 1 

" I gave to Moore, who is gone to Rome, my life 
in MS., — in seventy-eight folio sheets, brought down to 

1816 Also a journal kept in 1814. Neither are 

for publication during my life, but when I am cold you 
may do what you please. In the mean time, if you like 
to read them you may, and show them to anybody you 
hke. I care not " 

He tells him also : — 

" You will find in it a detailed account of my marriage 
and its consequences, as true as a part}' concerned can 
make such an account." 

Of the extent to which this autobiography- 
was circulated we have the following testimony 
of Shelton Mackenzie, in notes to the " Noctes " 
of June, 1824. 

In the Noctes Odoherty says : — 

" The fact is, the work had been copied for the private 
reading of a great lady in Florence." 

The note says : — 

" The great lady in Florence, for whose private read- 
ing Byron's autobiography was copied, was the Countess 



72 THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 

of Westmoreland Lady Blessington had the auto- 
biography in her possession for weeks, and confessed to 
having copied every hne of it. Moore remonstrated, 
and she committed her copy to the flames, but did not 
tell him that her sister, Mrs. Home Purvis, now Vis- 
countess of Canterbury, had also made a copy ! . . . . 
From the quantity of copy I have seen, — and others 
were more in the way of falling in with it than myself, — 
I surmise that at least half a dozen copies were made, 
and of these Jive are now in existence. Some particu- 
lar parts, such as the marriage and separation, were 
copied separately ; but I think there cannot be less than 
five full copies yet to be found." 

This was written after the original autobi- 
ography was burned. 

We may see the zeal and enthusiasm of 
the Byron party, — copying seventy-eight folio 
sheets, as of old Christians copied the Gos- 
pels. How widely, fully, and thoroughly, thus, 
by this secret process, was society saturated 
with Byron's own versions of the story that 
related to himself and wife ! Against her 
there was only the complaint of an absolute 



THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. ^3 

silence. She put forth no statements, no docu- 
ments ; had no party, sealed the lips of her 
counsel, and even of her servants ; yet she 
could not but have known, from time to time, 
how thoroughly and strongly this web of min- 
gled truth and lies was being meshed around 
her steps. 

From the time that Byron first saw the im- 
portance of securing Wilson on his side, and 
wrote to have his partisans attend to him, we 
may date an entire revolution in the Black- 
wood. It became Byron's warmest supporter, 
— is to this day the bitterest accuser of his 
wife. 

Why was this wonderful silence ? It appears 
by Dr. Lushington's statements, that, when Lady 
Byron did speak, she had a story to tell that 
powerfully affected both him and Romilly, — a 
story supported by evidence on which they were 
willing to have gone to public trial. Supposing, 
now, she had imitated Lord Byron's example, 
and, avoiding public trial, had put her story into 



74 THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 

private circulation ; as he sent " Don Juan " to 
fifty confidential fi-iends, suppose she had sent a 
written statement of her story to fifty judges as 
intelligent as the two that had heard it ; or sup- 
pose she had confronted his autobiography with 
her own, — what would have been the result ? 

The first result would have been Mrs. Leigh's 
utter ruin. The world may finally forgive the 
man of genius anything ; but for a woman there 
is no mercy and no redemption. 

This ruin Lady Byron prevented by her utter 
silence and great self-command. Mrs. Leigh 
never lost position. Lady Byron never so varied 
in her manner toward her as to excite the sus- 
picions even of her confidential old servant. 

To protect Mrs. Leigh effectually, it must have 
been necessary to continue to exclude even her 
own mother from the secret, as we are assured 
she did at first ; for, had she told Lady Milbanke, 
it is not possible that so high-spirited a woman 
could have restrained herself from such outward 
expressions as would at least have awakened sus- 



THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 75 

picion. There was no resource but this absolute 
silence. 

Lady Blessington, in her last conversation 
with Lord Byron, thus describes the life Lady 
Byron was leading. She speaks of her as 
" wearing away her youth in almost monastic 
seclusion, questioned by some, appreciated by 
few, seeking consolation alone in the discharge 
of her duties, and avoiding all external demon- 
strations of a grief that her pale cheek and 
solitary existence alone were vouchers for." * 

The main object of all this silence may be 
imagined, if we remember that if Lord Byron 
had not died, — had he truly and deeply re- 
pented, and become a thoroughly good man, 
and returned to England to pursue a course 
worthy of his powers, there was on record 
neither word nor deed from his wife to stand 
in his way. 

His PLACE WAS kept in society, ready for 
him to return to whenever he came clothed 

* Conversations, p. 108. 



76 THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON. 

and in his right mind. He might have had 
the heart and confidence of his daughter un- 
shadowed by a suspicion. He might have won 
the reverence of the great and good in his own 
lands and all lands. That hope, which was 
the strong support, the prayer of the silent 
wife, it did not please God to fulfil. 

Lord Byron died a worn-out man at thirty- 
six. But the bitter seeds he had sown came 
up, after his death, in a harvest of thorns 
over his grave ; and there were not wanting 
hands to use them as instruments of torture 
on the heart of his widow. 



CHAPTER III. 

RESUME OF THE CONSPIRACY. 

TT /"E have traced the conspiracy of Lord 
Byron against his wife up to its latest 
device. That the reader's mind may be clear on 
the points of the process, we shall now briefly 
recapitulate the documents in the order of time. 

I. March 17, 18 16. — While negotiations for 
separation were pending, — " Fare thee well, and 
if for ever r 

While writing these pages, we have received 
from England the testimony of one who has seen 
the original draught of that " Fare thee well." 
This original copy had evidently been subjected 
to the most careful and acute revision. Scarcely 
two lines that were not interlined, scarcely an 
adjective that was not exchanged for a better ; 

77 



78 Rl^SUME OF THE CONSPIRACY. 

showing that the noble lord was not so far over- 
come by grief as to have forgotten his reputa- 
tion. (Found its way to the public prints 
through the imprudence of a friend) 

II. March 29, 1816. — An attack on Lady 
Byron's old governess for having been born 
poor, for being homely, and for having unduly 
influenced his wife against him ; promising that 
her grave should be a fiery bed, &c. ; also prais- 
ing his wife's perfect and remarkable truthful- 
ness and discernment, that made it impossible 
for flattery to fool, or baseness blind her ; but 
ascribing all his woes to her being fooled and 
blinded by this same governess. (Found its 
way to the prints by the imprudence of a 
friend.) 

III. September, 1816. — Lines on hearing 
that Lady Byron is ill. Calls her a Clytcmnestra, 
who has secretly set assassins on her lord ; says 
she is a mean, treacherous, deceitful liar, and has 
entirely departed from her early truth, and be- 
come the most unscrupulous and unprincipled 



RESUME OF THE CONSPIRACY. 79 

of women. Never printed till after Lord By- 
ron's death, but circulated privately among the 
" initiatedr 

IV-. Aug. 9, 1 8 17. — Gives to M. G. Lewis 
a paper for circulation among friends in 
England, stating that what he most wants is 
public investigation, which has always been 
denied him ; and daring Lady Byron and her 
counsel to come out publicly. Found in M. G. 
Lewis's portfolio after his death ; never heard of 
before, except among the '' initiated." 

Having given M. G. Lewis's document time 
to work, — 

January, 1818. — Gives the fourth canto of 
" Childe Harold " * to the public. 

Jan. 25, 1 8 19. — Sends to Murray to print for 
private circulation among the "initiated" the 
first canto of " Don Juan." 

Is nobly and severely rebuked for this insult 
to his wife by the "Blackwood," August, 18 19. 

* ]\Iurray's edition of Byron's works, vol. ii. p. 189; date of dedication 
to Hobhouse, Jan. 2, 1818. 



80 RESUME OF THE CONSPIRACY. 

October, 1819. — Gives Moore the manu- 
script Autobiography, with leave to show it to 
whom he pleases, and print it after his death. 

Oct. 29, 1 8 19, vol. iv. letter 344. — Writes to 
Murray, that he may read all this Autobiogra- 
phy, and show it to anybody he likes. 

Dec. 10, 1819. — Writes to Murray on this 
article in "Blackwood" against " Don Juan" and 
himself, which he supposes written by Wilson ; 
sends a complimentary message to Wilson, and 
asks him to read his Autobiography sent by 
Moore. (Letter 350.) 

March 15, 1820. — Writes, and dedicates to I. 
Disraeli, Esq., a vindication of himself in reply 
to the " Blackwood " on " Don Juan," containing 
an indignant defence of his own conduct in rela- 
tion to his wife, and maintaining that he never 
yet has had an opportunity of knowing whereof 
he has been accused ; accusing Sir S. Romilly of 
taking his retainer, and then going over to the 
adverse party, &c. Printed for private circiUa- 
tion ; to be found in the standard English edition 
of Murray, vol. ix. p. 57. 



RESUME OF THE CONSPIRACY. 8 1 

. To this condensed account of Byron's strategy 
we must add the crowning stroke of poUcy 
which transmitted this warfare to his friends, to 
be continued after his death. 

During the last visit Moore made him in Italy, 
and just before Byron presented to him his 
Autobiography, the following scene occurred, 
as narrated by Moore (vol. iv. p. 221) : — 

" The chief subject of conversation, when alone, was his 
marriage, and the load of obloquy which it had brought upon 
him. He was most anxious to know the worst that had been 
alleged of his conduct ; and, as this was our first opportunity of 
speaking together on the subject, I did not hesitate to put his 
candor most searchingly to the proof, not only by enumerating 
the various charges I had heard brought against him by others, 
but by specifying such portions of these charges as I had been 
inclined to think not incredible myself. 

" To all this he listened with patience, and answered with 
the most unhesitating frankness ; laughing to scorn the tales of 
unmanly outrage related of him, but at the same time acknowl- 
edging that there had been in his conduct but too much to 
blame and regret, and stating one or two occasions during his 
domestic life when he had been irritated into letting the ' breath 
of bitter words ' escape him, . . . which he now evidently 



82 resum:^ of the conspiracy. 

remembered with a degree of remorse and pain which might 
well have entitled them to be forgotten by others. 

" It was, at the same time, manifest, that, whatever admis- 
sions he might be inclined to make respecting his own delin- 
quencies, the inordinate measure of the punishinent dealt 07it to 
him had stmk deeply into his mind, atid, with the zistial effect of 
such injustice, drove him also to be unjust himself ; so much so, 
indeed, as to impute to the quarter to which he now traced all his 
ill fate a feeling of fixed hostility to himself, which would not rest, 
he thought, evejt at his grave, but continue to persecute his memory 
as it was now imbitte^'ing his life. So strong was this impression 
upon him, that, during one of our few intervals of seriousness, 
he conjured me by our friendship, if, as he both felt and hoped, 
I should survive him, not to let unmerited censure settle upon 
his name." ' . 

In this same account, page 218, Moore testi- 
fies that 

*' Lord Byron disliked his countrymen, but only because he 
knew that his morals were held in contempt by them. The 
English, themselves rigid observers of family duties, could not 
pardon him the neglect of his, nor his trampling on principles ; 
therefore neither did he like being presented to them, nor did 
they, especially when they had wives with them, like to cultivate 
his acquaintance. Still there was a strong desire in all of them 
to see him ; and the women in particular, who did not dare to 



RESUME OF THE CONSPIRACY. 83 

look at him but by stealth, said in an under-voice, ' What a pity- 
it is ! ' If, however, any of his compatriots of exalted rank and 
high reputation came forward to treat him with courtesy, he 
showed himself obviously flattered by it. It seemed, that, to 
the wound which remained open in his ulcerated heart, such 
soothing attentions were as drops of healing balm, which com- 
forted him." 

When in society, we are further informed 
by a lady quoted by Mr. Moore, he was in the 
habit of speaking of his wife with much respect 
and affection, as an illustrious lady, distinguished 
for her qualities of heart and understanding; 
saying that all the fault of their cruel separation 
lay with himself. Mr. Moore seems at times to 
be somewhat puzzled by these contradictory 
statements of his idol, and speculates not a 
little on what could be Lord Byron's object in 
using such language in public ; mentally com- 
paring it, we suppose, with the free handling 
which he gave to the same subject in his private 
correspondence. 

The innocence with which Moore gives him- 
self up to be manipulated by Lord Byron, the 



84 RESUMfe OF THE CONSPIRACY. 

naivete with which he shows all the process, 
let us a little into the secret of the marvellous 
powers of charming and blinding which this 
great actor possessed. 

Lord Byron had the beauty, the wit, the 
genius, the dramatic talent, which have consti- 
tuted the strength of some wonderfully fascinat- 
ing women. 

There have been women able to lead their 
leashes of blinded adorers ; to make them swear 
that black was white, or white black, at their 
word ; to smile away their senses, or weep away 
their reason. No matter what these sirens may 
say, no matter what they may do, though caught 
in a thousand transparent lies, and doing a 
thousand deeds which would have ruined others, 
still men madly rave after them in life, and tear 
their hair over their graves. Such an enchanter 
in man's shape was Lord Byron. 

He led captive Moore and Murray by be- 
ing beautiful, a genius, and a lord ; calling 
them " Dear Tom," and " Dear Murray," while 



r6sum6 of the conspiracy. 85 

they were only commoners. He first insulted 
Sir Walter Scott, and then witched his heart 
out of him by ingenuous confessions and poeti- 
cal compliments ; he took Wilson's heart by 
flattering messages and a beautifully-written 
letter ; he corresponded familiarly with Hogg ; 
and, before his death, had made fast friends, 
in one way or another, of the whole Noctes 
Ambrosianae Club. 

We thus have given the historical restmi6 of 
Lord Byron's attacks on his wife's reputation : 
we shall add, that they were based on philo- 
sophic principles, showing a deep knowledge of 
mankind. An analysis will show that they can 
be philosophically classified : — 

1st, Those which addressed the sympathetic 
nature of man, representing her as cold, method- 
ical, severe, strict, unforgiving. 

2d, Those addressed to the faculty of associa- 
tion, connecting her with ludicrous and licen- 
tious images ; taking from her the usual protoc- 
tion of womanly delicacy and sacredness. 



86 RESUME OF THE CONSPIRACY. 

3d, Those addressed to the moral faculties, 
accusing her as artful, treacherous, untruthful, 
malignant. 

All these various devices he held in his hand, 
shuffling and dealing them as a careful gamester 
his pack of cards according to the exigencies of 
the game. He played adroitly, skilfully, with 
bhnding flatteries and seductive wiles, that 
made his victims willing dupes. 

Nothing can more clearly show the power 
and perfectness of his enchantments than the 
masterly way in which he turned back the moral 
force of the whole English nation, which had 
risen at first in its strength against him. The 
victory was complete. 



CHAPTER IV. 

RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON's DEATH. 

A T the time of Lord Byron's death, the Eng- 
Hsh public had been so skilfully manipu- 
lated by the Byron propaganda, that the sympa- 
thy of the whole v/orld was with him. A tide 
of emotion was now aroused in England by his 
early death, — dying in the cause of Greece and 
liberty. There arose a general wail for him, as 
for a lost pleiad, not only in England, but over 
the whole world ; a great rush of enthu- 
siasm for his memory, to which the greatest 
literary men of England freely gave voice. By 
general consent. Lady Byron seems to have 
been looked upon as the only cold-hearted, un- 
sympathetic person in this general mourning. 

From that time, the literary world of England 

87 



65 RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON S DEATH. 

apparently regarded Lady Byron as a woman to 
whom none of the decorums, nor courtesies of 
ordinary womanhood, nor even the consideration 
belonging to common humanity, were due. 

" She that is a widow indeed, and desolate," 
has been regarded in all Christian countries as 
an object made sacred by the touch of God's 
afflicting hand, sacred in her very helplessness ; 
and the old Hebrew Scriptures give to the 
Supreme Father no dearer title than " the 
widow's God." But, on Lord Byron's death, 
men not devoid of tenderness, men otherwise 
generous and of fine feeling, acquiesced in in- 
sults to his widow with an obtuseness that 
seems, on review, quite incredible. 

Lady Byron was not only a widow, but an 
orphan. . She had no sister for confidante ; no 
father and mother to whom to go in her sor- 
rows, — sorrows so much deeper and darker to 
her than they could be to any other human 
being. She had neither son nor brother to 
uphold and protect her. On all hands it was 



RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON's DEATH. 89 

acknowledged, that, so far, there was no fault to 
be found in her but her utter silence. Her life 
was confessed to be pure, useful, charitable ; and 
yet, in this time of her sorrow, the writers of 
England issued article upon article not only 
devoid of delicacy, but apparently injurious and 
insulting towards her, with a blind unconscious- 
ness which seems astonishing. 

One of the greatest literary powers of that time 
was the " Blackwood : " the reigning monarch on 
that literary throne was Wilson, the lion-hearted, 
the brave, generous, tender poet, and, with some 
sad exceptions, the noble man. But Wilson had 
believed the story of Byron, and, by his very 
generosity and tenderness and pity, was betrayed 
into injustice. 

In "The Noctes " of November, 1824, there is 
a conversation of the Noctes club, in which 
North says, " Byron and I knew each other 
pretty well ; and I suppose there's no harm in 
adding, that we appreciated each other pretty 
tolerably. Did you ever see his letter to me ? " 



90 RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON S DEATH. 

The footnote to this says, " TJiis letter, zvJdch 
was PRINTED ill Byron's lifetime, was not 
published till 1830, when it appeared in Moore's 
Life of Byron. It is one of the most vigor- 
ous prose compositions in the language. Byron 
had the highest opinion of Wilson's genius and 
noble spirit." 

In the first place, with our present ideas of 
propriety and good taste, we should reckon 
it an indecorum to make the private affairs of a 
pure and good woman, whose circumstances 
from any point of view were trying, and who 
evidently shunned publicity, the subject of pub- 
lic discussion in magazines which were read all 
over the world. 

Lady Byron, as they all knew, had on her 
hands a most delicate and onerous task, in bring- 
ing up an only daughter, necessarily inheriting 
peculiarities of genius and great sensitiveness ; 
and the many mortifications and embarrassments 
which such intermeddling with her private 
matters must have given, certainly should have 



RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON S DEATH. 9 1 

been considered by men with any pretensions to 
refinement or good feeling. 

But the hterati of England allowed her no 
consideration, no rest, no privacy. 

In "The Noctes " of November, 1825, there 
is the record of a free conversation upon Lord 
and Lady Byron's affairs, interlarded with exhor- 
tations to push the bottle, and remarks on 
whiskey-toddy. Medwin's " Conversations with 
Lord Byron " is discussed, which, we are told in 
a note, appeared a few months after the noble 
poet's death. 

There is a rather bold and free discus- 
sion of Lord Byron's character, — his fond- 
ness for gin and water, on which stimulus 
he wrote " Don Juan ; " and James Hogg says 
pleasantly to Mullion, " O Mullion ! it's a pity 
you and Byron could na ha' been acquaint. 
There would ha' been brave sparring to see 
who could say the wildest and the dreadfullest 
things ; for he had neither fear of man or wo- 
man, and would ha' his joke or jeer, cost what it 



92 RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON S DEATH. 

might." And then follows a specimen of one of 
his jokes with an actress, that, in indecency, cer- 
tainly justifies the assertion. From the other 
stories which follow, and the parenthesis that 
occurs frequently, ( " Mind your glass, James, a 
little more ! " ) it seems evident that the party 
are progressing in their peculiar kind of civiliza- 
tion. 

It is in this same circle and paper that Lady 
Byron's private affairs come up for discussion. 
The discussion is thus elegantly introduced : — 

Hogg. — " Reach me the black bottle. I say, Christopher, 
what, after all, is your opinion o' Lord and Leddy Byron's 
quarrel ? Do you yoursel' take part with him, or with her ? I 
wad like to hear your real opinion." 

North. — " Oh, dear ! Well, Hogg, since you will have it, I 
think Douglas Kinnaird and Hobhouse are bound to tell us 
whether there be any truth, and how much, in this story about 
the declaration, signed by Sir Ralph " [Milbanke]. 

The note here tells us that this refers to a 
statement that appeared in " Blackwood " imme- 
diately after Byron's death, to the effect, that, 



RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON S DEATH. 93 

previous to the formal separation from his wife, 
Byron required and obtained from Sir Ralph 
Milbanke, Lady Byron's father, a statement to 
the effect that Lady Byron had no charge of 
moral dehnquency to bring against him.* 
North continues : — 

" And I think Lady Byron's letter, the ' Dearest Duck ' one 
I mean, shoukl really be forthcoming, if her ladyship's friends 
wish to stand fair before the public. At present, we have noth- 
ing but loose talk of society to go upon ; and certainly, if the 
things that are said be true, there must be thorough explanation 
from so77ie quarter, or the tide luill continue, as it has assuredly 
begujt, toflozv in a direction very opposite to what we zvere for years 
accustomed. Sir, they must explain this business of the letter. 
You have, of course, heard about the invitation it contained, 
the warm, affectionate invitation, to Kirkby ]\Iallory " — 

Hogg interposes, — 

" I dinna like to be interruptin' ye, Mr. North ; but I must 
inquire, Is the jitg to stand still while ye're going on at that 
rate .' " 

* Recently, Lord Lindsay has published another version of this story, 
which makes it appear that he has conversed with a lady who conversed with 
Hobhouse during his lifetime, in which this story is differently reported. In 
the last version, it is made to appear that Hobhouse got this declaration 
from Lady Byron herself. 



94 RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON S DEATH. 

North. — " There, Porker ! These things are part and par- 
cel of the chatter of every bookseller's shop ; a fortiori, of every 
drawing-room in iNIay Fair. Caii the matter stop here ? Can a 
great man's memory be permitted to incur damnation while 
these saving clauses are afloat anywhere uncontradicted ? " 

And from this the conversation branches off 
into strong, emphatic praise of Byron's conduct 
in Greece during the last part of his hfe. 

The silent widow is thus delicately and con- 
siderately reminded in the " Blackwood " that 
she is the talk, not only over the whiskey-jug of 
the Noctes, but in every drawing-room in Lon- 
don ; and that she must speak out and explain 
matters, or the whole world will set a^rainst her. 

But she does not speak yet. The public per- 
secution, therefore, proceeds. Medwin's book 
being insufficient, another biographer is to be 
selected. Now, the person in the Noctes club 
who was held to have the most complete informa- 
tion of the Byron affairs, and was, on that ac- 
count, hrst thought of by Murray to execute this 
very delicate task of writing a Memoir which 



RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON S DEATH. 95 

should include the most sacred domestic affairs 
of a noble lady and her orphan daughter, was 
Maginn, Maginn, the author of the pleasant 
joke, that " man never reaches the apex of civi- 
lization till he is too drunk to pronounce the 
word," was the first person in whose hands the 
Autobiography, Memoirs, and Journals of Lord 
Byron were placed with this view. 

The following note from Shelton Mackenzie, 
in the June number of ^" The Noctes," 1824, 
says, — 

" At that time, had he been so minded, Maginn (Odoherty) 
could have got up a popular Life of Byron as well as most 
men in England. Immediately on the account of Byron's death 
being received in London, John Murray proposed that Maginn 
should bring out ^Memoirs, Journals, and Letters of Lord Byron, 
and, with this intent, placed in his hand every line that he 
(Murray) possessed in Byron's handwriting. . . . The strong 
desire of Byron 'j family and executors that the Autobiography 
should be burned, to which desire Murray foolishly yielded, 
made such an hiatus in the materials, that Murray and Maginn 
agreed it would not answer to bring out the work then. Event- 
ually Moore executed it." 



96 RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON's DEATH. 

The character of the times in which this work 
was to be undertaken will appear from the fol- 
lowing note of Mackenzie's to " The Noctes " of 
August, 1824, which we copy, with the aiUJiors 
own Italics : — 

" In the ' Blackwood ' of July, 1824, was a poetical epistle by 
the renowned Timothy Tickler, to the editor of the 'John 
Bull ' magazine, on an article in his first number. This article 
. . . professed to be a portion of the veritable Autobiography 
of Byron which was burned, and was called ' My Wedding 
Night.' It appeared to relate in detail rjcry thmg that oc- 
curred in the twenty-four hours immediately succeeding that in 
which Byron was married. It had plenty of coarseness, 
and some to spare. It went into particulars such as hitherto 
had been given only by Faublas ; and it had, notwithstanding, 
many phrases and some facts which evidently did not belong to 
a mere fabricator. Some years after, I compared this * Wed- 
ding Night' with what I had all assurance of having been 
transcribed from the actual manuscripts of Byron, and was per- 
suaded that the magazine-writer must have had the actical state- 
ment before him, or have had a perusal of it. The writer in 
' Blackwood ' declared his conviction that it really was Byron's 
own writing." 

The reader must remember that Lord Byron 



RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON S DEATH. 97 

died April, 1824: so that, according to this, his 
Autobiography was made the means of this 
gross insult to his widow three months after his 
death. 

If some powerful cause had not paralyzed all 
feelings of gentlemanly honor, and of womanly 
delicacy, and of common humanity, towards 
Lady Byron, throughout the whole British 
nation, no editor would have dared to open a 
periodical with such an article ; or, if he had, he 
would have been overwhelmed with a storm 
of popular indignation, which, like the fire 
upon Sodom, would have left him a pillar 
of salt for a warning to all future genera- 
tions. 

" Blackwood " reproves *' The John Bull " in a 
poetical epistle, recognizing the article as 
coming from Byron, and says to the autJior, — 

" But that you, sir, a wit and a scholar like you, 
Should not blush to produce what he blushed not to do, — 
Take your compliment, youngster : this doubles, almost. 
The sorrow that rose when his honor was lost." 



98 RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON's DEATH. 

We may not wonder that the Autobiography 
was burned, as Murray says in a recent account, 
by a committee of Byron's friends^ including 
Hobhouse, his sister, and Murray himself. 

Now, the " Blackwood " of July, 1824, thus de- 
clares its conviction that this outrage on every 
sentiment of human decency came from Lord 
Byron, and that his honor was lost. Maginn 
does not undertake the Memoir. No Memoir at 
all is undertaken ; till finally Moore is selected, 
as, like Demetrius of old, a well-skilled gilder 
and " maker of silver shrines," though not for 
Diana. To Moore is committed the task of 
doing his best for this battered image, in which 
even the worshippers recognize foul sulphurous 
cracks, but which they none the less stand 
ready to worship as a genuine article that " fell 
down from Jupiter." 

Moore was a man of no particular nicety as to 
moralities, but in that matter seems not very 
much below what this record shows his average 
associates to be. He is so far superior to 



RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON S DEATH. 99 

Maginn, that his vice is rose-colored and refined. 
He does not burst out with such heroic stanzas 
as Maginn's frank invitation to Jeremy Ben- 
tham : — 

" Jeremy, throw your pen aside, 
And come get drunk with me ; 
And we'll go where Bacchus sits astride, 
Perched high on barrels three." 

Moore's vice is cautious, soft, seductive, 
sUppery, and covered at times with a thin, 
tremulous veil of religious sentimentalism. 

In regard to Byron, he was an unscrupulous, 
committed partisan : he was as much bewitched 
by him as ever man has been by woman ; and 
therefore to him, at last, the task of editing 
Byron's Memoirs was given. 

This Byron, whom they all knew to be 
obscene beyond what even their most drunken 
tolerance could at first endure ; this man, 
whose foul license spoke out what most 
men conceal from mere respect to the decent 
instincts of humanity ; whose " honor was lost," 



100 RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON S DEATH. 

— was submitted to this careful manipulator, to 
be turned out a perfected idol for a world longing 
for one, as the Israelites longed for the calf 
in Horeb. 

The image was to be invested with deceitful 
glories and shifting haloes, — admitted faults 
spoken of as peculiarities of sacred origin, — 
and the world given to understand that no 
common rule or measure could apply to such 
an undoubtedly divine production ; and so the 
hearts of men were to be wrung with pity for 
his sorrows as the yearning pain of a god, and 
with anger at his injuries as sacrilege on the 
sacredness of genius, till they were ready to 
cast themselves at his feet, and adore. 

Then he was to be set up on a pedestal, like 
Nebuchadnezzar's image on the plains of Dura ; 
and what time the world heard the sound of 
cornet, sackbut, and dulcimer, in his enchanting 
verse, they were to fall down and worship. 

For Lady Byron, Moore had simply the respect 
that a commoner has for a lady of rank, and a 



RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON S DEATH. Id 

good deal of the feeling that seems to underlie 
all English literature, — that it is no matter what 
becomes of the woman when the man's story is 
to be told. But, with all his faults, Moore was 
not a cruel man ; and we cannot conceive such 
outrageous cruelty and ungentlemanly indelicacy 
towards an unoffending woman, as he shows in 
these Memoirs, without referring them to Lord 
Byron's own influence in making him an un- 
scrupulous, committed partisan on his side. 

So little pity, so little sympathy, did he sup- 
pose Lady Byron to be worthy of, that he 
laid before her, in the sight of all the world, 
selections from her husband's letters and jour- 
nals, in which the privacies of her courtship 
and married life were jested upon with a vulgar 
levity ; letters filled, from the time of the act 
of separation, with a constant succession of 
sarcasms, stabs, stings, epigrams, and vindictive 
allusions to herself, bringing her into direct 
and insulting comparison with his various mis- 
tresses, and implying their superiority over 



102 RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON S DEATH. 

her. There, too, were gross attacks on her 
father and mother, as having been the instiga- 
tors of the separation ; and poor Lady Mil- 
banke, in particular, is sometimes mentioned 
with epithets so offensive, that the editor pru- 
dently covers the terms with stars, as intending 
language too gross to be printed. 

The last mistress of Lord Byron is uniformly 
brought forward in terms of such respect and 
consideration, that one would suppose that the 
usual moral laws that regulate English family 
life had been specially repealed in his favor. 
Moore quotes with approval letters from Shel- 
ley, stating that Lord Byron's connection with 
La Guiccioli has been of inestimable benefit to 
him ; and that he is now becoming what he 
should be, " a virtuous man." Moore goes on to 
speak of the connection as one, though somewhat 
reprehensible, yet as having all those advantages 
of marriage and settled domestic ties that Byron's 
affectionate spirit had long sighed for, but never 
before found ; and in his last resitmi of the 



RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON S DEATH. IO3 

poet's character, at the end of the vohime, he 
brings the mistress into direct comparison with 
the wife in a single sentence : " The woman to 
whom he gave the love of his maturer years 
idolizes his name ; and, with a single tiuhappy 
exception, scarce an instance is to be found of 
one brought . . . into relations of amity with 
him who did not retain a kind regard for him in 
life, and a fondness for his memory." 

Literature has never yet seen the instance of 
a person, of Lady Byron's rank in life, placed 
before the world in a position more humiliating 
to womanly dignity, or wounding to womanly 
delicacy. 

The direct implication is, that she has no feel- 
ings to be hurt, no heart to be broken, and is 
not worthy even of the consideration which in 
ordinary life is to be accorded to a widow who 
has received those awful tidings which generally 
must awaken many emotions, and call for some 
consideration, even in the most callous hearts. 

The woman who we are told walked the 



104 RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON S DEATH. 

room, vainly striving to control the sobs that 
shook her frame, while she sought to draw from 
the servant that last message of her husband 
which she was never to hear, was not thought 
worthy even of the rights of common hu- 
manity. 

The first volume of the Memoir came out in 
1830. Then for the first time came one flash 
of lightning from the silent cloud ; and she who 
had never spoken before spoke out. The libels 
on the memory of her dead parents drew from 
her what her own wrongs never did. During 
all this time, while her husband had been keep- 
ing her effigy dangling before the public as a 
mark for solemn curses, and filthy lampoons, and 
secre^fy-circuldited disclosures, that spared no 
sacredness and violated every decorum, she had 
not uttered a word. She had been subjected to 
nameless insults, discussed in the assemblies of 
drunkards, and challenged to speak for herself 
Like the chaste lady in " Comus," whom the vile 
wizard had bound in the enchanted seat to be 



RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON's DEATH. IO5 

" grinned at and chattered at " by all the filthy 
rabble of his dehumanized rout, she had re- 
mained pure, lofty, and undefiled ; and the stains 
of mud and mire thrown upon her had fallen 
from her spotless garments. 

Now that she is dead, a recent writer in " The 
London Quarterly " dares give voice to an insin- 
uation which even Byron gave only a suggestion 
of when he called his wife Clytemnestra ; and 
hints that she tried the power of youth and 
beauty to win to her the young solicitor Lushing- 
ton, and a handsome young officer of high rank. 

At this time, siicli insinuations had not been 
thought of; and the only and chief allegation 
against Lady Byron had been a cruel severity 
of virtue. 

At all events, when Lady Byron spoke, the 
world listened with respect, and believed what 
she said. 

Here let us, too, read her statement, and 
give it the careful attention she solicits 
(Moore's Life of Byron, vol. vi. p. 275) : — 



I06 RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON's DEATH. 

"I have disregarded various publications in which facts 
within my own knowledge have been grossly misrepresented ; 
but I am called upon to notice some of the erroneous statements 
proceeding from one who claims to be considered as Lord 
Byron's confidential and authorized friend. Domestic details 
ought not to be intruded on the public attention : if, however, 
they are so intruded, the persons affected by them have a right 
to refute injurious charges. Mr. Moore has promulgated his 
own impressions of private events in which I was most nearly 
concerned, as if he possessed a competent knowledge of the 
subject. Having survived Lord Byron, I feel increased reluc- 
tance to advert to any circumstances connected with the period 
of my marriage ; nor is it now my intention to disclose them 
further than may be indispensably requisite for the end I have 
in view. Self-vindication is not the motive which actuates me 
to make this appeal, and the spirit of accusation is unmingled 
with it ; but when the conduct of my parents is brought for- 
ward in a disgraceful light by the passages selected from Lord 
Byron's letters, and by the remarks of his biographer, I feel 
bound to justify their characters from imputations which I 
hiozu to be false. The passages from Lord Byron's letters, to 
which I refer, are, — the aspersion on my mother's character 
(p. 648, 1.4):* ' My child is very well and flourishing, I hear ; 



* The references are to the first volume of the first edition of Moore's 
Life, originally published by itself. 



RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON S DEATH. lO/ 

but I must see also. I feel no disposition to resign it to the 
contagion of its grandmother'' s society.^ The assertion of her dis- 
honorable conduct in employing a spy (p. 645, 1. 7, &c.) : 'A 
Mrs. C. (now a kind of housekeeper and sf>y of Lady N.'s), 
who, in her better days, was a washerwoman, is supposed to be 
— by the learned — very much the occult cause of our domestic 
discrepancies.' The seeming exculpation of myself in the 
extract (p. 646), with the words immediately following it, ' Her 

nearest relations are a ; ' where the blank clearly implies 

something too offensive for publication. These passages tend 
to throw suspicion on my parents, and give reason to ascribe 
the separation either to their direct agency, or to that of ' offi- 
cious spies ' employed by them.* From the following part of 
the narrative (p. 642), it must also be inferred that an undue 
influence was exercised by them for the accomplishment of this 
purpose : ' It was in a few weeks after the latter communication 
between us (Lord Byron and Mr. Moore) that Lady Byron 
adopted the determination of parting from him. She had left 
London at the latter end of January, on a visit to her father's 
house in Leicestershire ; and Lord Byron was in a short time 
to follow her. They had parted in the utmost kindness, — she 
wrote him a letter, full of playfulness and affection, oh the road ; 
and, immediately on her arrival at Kirkby Mallory, her father 
wrote to acquaint Lord Byron that she would return to him no 
more.' 

* " The officious spies of his privacy," p. 650. 



I08 RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON's DEATH. 

" In my observations upon this statement, I shall, as far as 
possible, avoid touching on any matters relating personally to 
Lord Byron and myself. The facts are, — I left London for 
Kirkby Mallory, the residence of my father and mother, on the 
15th of January, 1816. Lord Byron had signified to me in 
vi^riting (Jan. 6) his absolute desire that I should leave 
London on the earliest day that I could conveniently fix. It 
was not safe for me to undertake the fatigue of a journey sooner 
than the 15th. Previously to my departure, it had been strongly 
impressed on my mind that Lord Byron was under the influence 
of insanity. This opinion was derived in a great measure from 
the communications made to me by his nearest relatives and 
personal attendant, who had more opportunities than myself 
of observing him during the latter part of my stay in town. It 
was even represented to me that he was in danger of destroying 
himself. With the concurrence of his family, I had consulted 
Dr. Baillie, as a friend (Jan. S), respecting this supposed mal- 
ady. On acquainting him with the state of the case, and with 
Lord Byron's desire that I should leave London, Dr. Baillie 
thought that my absence might be advisable as an experiment, 
assuming the fact of mental derangement; for Dr. Baillie, not 
having had access to Lord Byron, could not pronounce a posi- 
tive opinion on that point. He enjoined, that, in correspond- 
ence with Lord Byron, I should- avoid all but light and soothing 
topics. Under these impressions, I left London, determined to 
follow the advice given by Dr. Baillie. Whatever might have 
been the nature of Lord Byron's conduct towards me from the 



RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON S DEATH. IO9 

time of my marriage, yet, supposing him to be in a state of 
mental alienation, it was not for me, nor for any person of com- 
mon humanity, to manifest at that moment a sense of injury. 
On the day of my departure, and again on my arrival at Kirkby 
(Jan. 16), I wrote to Lord Byron in a kind and cheerful tone, 
according to those medical directions. 

"The last letter was circulated, and employed as a pretext 
for the charge of my having been subsequently influenced to 
'desert ' * my husband. It has been argued that I parted from 
Lord Byron in perfect harmony ; that feelings incompatible with 
any deep sense of injury had dictated the letter which I ad- 
dressed to him ; and that my sentiments must have been 
changed by persuasion and interference when I was under the 
roof of my parents. These assertions and inferences are wholly 
destitute of foundation. When I arrived at Kirkby Mallory, 
my parents were unacquainted with the existence of any causes 
likely to destroy my prospects of happiness ; and, when I com- 
municated to them the opinion which had been formed concern- 
ing Lord Byron's state of mind, they were most anxious to 
promote his restoration by every means in their power. They 
assured those relations who were with him in London, that 
* they would devote their whole care and attention to the alle- 
viation of his malady ; ' and hoped to make the best arrange- 
ments for his comfort, if he could be induced to visit them. 

" With these intentions, my mother wrote on the 17th to 

* " The deserted husband," p. 651. 



no RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON S DEATH. 

Lord Byron, inviting him to Kirkby Mallory. She had always 
treated him with an affectionate consideration and indulgence, 
which extended to every little peculiarity of his feelings. Never 
did an irritating word escape her lips in her whole intercourse 
with him. The accounts given me after I left Lord Byron, by 
the persons in constant intercourse with him, added to those 
doubts which had before transiently occurred to my mind as to 
the reality of the alleged disease; and the reports of his medical 
attendant were far from establishing the existence of any thing 
like lunacy. Under this uncertainty, I deemed it right to com- 
municate to my parents, that, if I were to consider Lord Byron's 
past conduct as that of a person of sound mind, nothing could 
induce me to return to him. It therefore appeared expedient, 
both to them and myself, to consult the ablest advisers. For 
that object, and also to obtain still further information respecting 
the appearances which seemed to indicate mental derangement, 
my mother determined to go to London. She was empowered 
by me to take legal opinions on a written statement of mine, 
though I had then reasons for reserving a part of the case from 
the knowledge even of my father and mother. Being convinced 
by the result of these inquiries, and by the tenor of Lord By- 
ron's proceedings, that the notion of insanity was an illusion, I 
no longer hesitated to authorize such measures as were necessary 
in order to s'ecure me from being ever again.placed in his power. 
Conformably with this resolution, my father wrote to him on 
the 2d of February to propose an amicable separation. Lord 
Byron at first rejected this proposal ; but when it was distinctly 



RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON S DEATH. Ill 

notified to him, that, if he persisted in his refusal, recourse must 
be had to legal measures, he agreed to sign a deed of separation. 
Upon applying to Dr. Lushington, who was intimately ac- 
quainted with all the circumstances, to state in writing what 
he recollected upon this subject, I received from him the follow- 
ing letter, by which it will be manifest that my mother cannot 
have been actuated by any hostile or ungenerous motives towards 
Lord Byron : — 

" ' My dear Lady Byron, — I can rely upon the accuracy 
of my memory for the following statement. I was originally 
consulted by Lady Noel, on your behalf, whilst you were in the 
country. The circumstances detailed by her were such as justi- 
fied a separation ; but they were not of that aggravated descrip- 
tion as to render such a measure indispensable. On Lady Noel's 
representation, I deemed a reconciliation with Lord Byron prac- 
ticable, and felt most sincerely a wish to aid in effecting it. 
There was not on Lady Noel's part any exaggeration of the 
facts ; nor, so far as I could perceive, any determination to pre- 
vent a return to Lord Byron : certainly none was expressed 
when I spoke of a reconciliation. When you came to town, in 
about a fortnight, or perhaps more, after my first interview with 
Lady Noel, I was for the first time informed by you of facts 
utterly unknown, as I have no doubt, to Sir Ralph and Lady 
Noel. On receiving this additional information, my opinion was 
entirely changed : I considered a reconciliation impossible. I 
declared my opinion, and added, that, if such an idea should be 
entertained, I could not, either professionally or otherwise, take 
any part towards effecting it, 

" ' Believe me, very faithfully yours, 

"'Steph. Lushington. 

"'Great George Street, Jan. 31, 1830.' 



112 RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON S DEATH. 

" I have only to observe, that, if the statements on which my 
legal advisers (the late Sir Samuel Romilly and Dr. Lushing- 
ton) formed their opinions were false, the responsibility and the 
odium should rest with me only. I trust that the facts which I 
have here briefly recapitulated will absolve my father and 
mother from all accusations with regard to the part they took in 
the separation between Lord Byron and myself. 

" They neither originated, instigated, nor advised that sepa- 
ration ; and they cannot be condemned for having afforded to 
their daughter the assistance and protection which she claimed. 
There is no other near relative to vindicate their memory from 
insult. I am therefore compelled to break the silence which I 
had hoped always to observe, and to solicit from the readers of 
Lord Byron's Life an impartial consideration of the testimony 
extorted from me. *' A. I. NoEL Byron. 

*' Hanger Hill, Feb. 19, 1830." 

The effect of this statement on the literary 
world may be best judged by the discussion of 
it by Christopher North (Wilson) in the suc- 
ceeding May number of " The Noctes," where 
the bravest and most generous of literary men 
that then were — himself the husband of a gen- 
tle wife — thus gives sentence : the conversa- 
tion is between North and the Shepherd : — 



RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON S DEATH. II3 

North. — " God forbid I should wound the feelings of Lady 
Byron, of whose character, known to me but by the high esti- 
mation in which it is held by all who have enjoyed her friend- 
ship, I have always spoken with respect ! . . . But may I, 
without harshness or indelicacy, say, here among ourselves, 
James, that, by marrying Byron, she took upon herself, with 
eyes wide open and conscience clearly convinced, duties very 
different from those of which, even in common cases, the pre- 
saging foresight shadows . . . the light of the first nuptial 
moon ? " 

Shepherd. — " She did that, sir ; by my troth, she did that." 

North. — ** Miss Milbanke knew that he was reckoned a 
rake and a roue ; and although his genius wiped off, by impas- 
sioned eloquence in love-letters that were felt to be irresistible, 
or hid the worst stain of, that reproach, still Miss Milbanke must 
have believed it a perilous thing to be the wife of Lord Byron. 
. . . But still, by joining her life to his in marriage, she pledged 
her troth and her faith and her love, under probabilities of se- 
vere, disturbing, perhaps fearful trials, in the future. . . . 

*' But I think Lady Byron ought not to have printed that 
Narrative. Death abrogates not the rights of a husband to his 
wife's silence when speech is fatal ... to his character as 
^a man. Has she not flung suspicion over his bones interred, 
that they are the bones of a — monster .? . . . If Byron's sins or 
crimes — for we are driven to use terrible terms — were unen- 
durable and unforgivable as if against the Holy Ghost, ought 
8 



114 RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON S DEATH. 

the wheel, the rack, or the stake to have extorted that confession 
from his widow's breast ? . . . But there was no such pain 
here, James : the declaration was voluntary, and it was calm. 
Self-collected, and gathering up all her faculties and feelings 
into unshrinking strength, she denounced before all the world — 
and throughout all space and all time — her husband, as excom- 
municated by his vices from woman's bosom. 

" 'Twas to vindicate the character of her parents that Lady 
Byron wrote, — a holy purpose and devout, nor do I doubt sin- 
cere. But filial affection and reverence, sacred as they are, may 
be blamelessly, nay, righteously, subordinate to conjugal duties, 
which die not with the dead, are extinguished not even by the 
sins of the dead, were they as foul as the grave's corruption." 

Here is what John Stuart Mill calls the lite- 
rature of slavery for woman, in length and 
breadth ; and, that all women may understand 
the doctrine, the Shepherd now takes up his par- 
able, and expounds the true position of the wife. 
We render his Scotch into English : — 

" Not a few such widows do I know, whom brutal, profligate, 
and savage husbands have brought to the brink of the grave, — 
as good, as bright, as innocent as, and far more forgiving than. 
Lady Byron. There they sit in their obscure, rarely- visited dwell- 



RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON S DEATH. II5 

ings ; for sympathy instructed by suffering knows well that the 
deepest and most hopeless misery is least given to complaint." 

Then follows a pathetic picture of one such 
widow, trembling and fainting for hunger, 
obliged, on her way to the well for a can of 
water, her only drink, to sit down on a ^' knowe'' 
and say a prayer. 

" Yet she's decently, yea, tidily dressed, poor creature ! in 
sair worn widow's clothes, a single suit for Saturday and Sun- 
day ; her hair, untimely gray, is neatly braided under her crape 
cap ; and sometimes, when all is still and solitary in the fields, 
and all labor has disappeared into the house, you may see her 
stealing by herself, or leading one wee orphan by the hand, with 
another at her breast, to the kirkyard, where the love of her 
youth and the husband of her prime is buried." 

" Yet," says the Shepherd, "he was a brute, a ruffian, a mon- 
ster. When drunk, how he raged and cursed and swore ! 
Often did she dread, that, in his fits of inhuman passion, he 
would have murdered the baby at her breast ; for she had seen 
him dash their only little boy, a child of eight years old, on the 
floor, till the blood gushed from his ears ; and then the madman 
threw himself down on the body, and howled for the gallows. 
Limmers haunted his door, and he theirs ; and it was hers to 
lie, not sleep, in a cold, forsaken bed, once the bed of peace, 



Il6 RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON's DEATH. 

afifection, and perfect happiness. Often he struck her; and 
once, when she was pregnant with that very orphan now smil- 
ing on her breast, reaching out his wee fingers to touch the flow- 
ers on his father's grave. . . . 

" But she tries to smile among the neighbors, and speaks of 
her boy's likeness to its father ; nor, when the conversation' 
turns on bygone times, does she fear to let his name escape her 
white lips, * My Robert ; the bairn's not ill-favored, but he will 
never look like his father,' — and such sayings, uttered in a 
calm, sweet voice. Nay, I remember once how her pale coun- 
tenance reddened with a sudden flush of pride, when a gossip- 
ing crone alluded to their wedding ; and the widow's eye 
brightened through her tears to hear how the bridegroom, sit- 
ting that sabbath in his front seat beside his bonny bride, had 
not his equal for strength, stature, and all that is beauty in man, 
in all the congregation. That, I say, sir, whether right or 
wrong, was — forgiveness.'''' 

Here is a specimen of how even generous 
men had been so perverted by the enchantment 
of Lord Byron's genius, as to turn all the pathos 
and power of the strongest literature of that 
day against the persecuted, pure woman, and for 
the strong, wicked man. These " Blackwood " 
writers knew, by Byron's own filthy, ghastly 



RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON's DEATH. 11/ 

writings, which had gone sorely against their 
own moral stomachs, that he was foul to the 
bone. They could see, in Moore's Memoirs 
right before them, how he had caught an inno- 
cent girl's heart by sending a love-letter, and 
offer of marriage, at the end of a long friendly 
correspondence, — a letter that had been written 
to sJiow to his libertine set, and sent on the toss- 
up of a copper, because he cared nothing for it 
one way or the other. 

They admit, that, having won this poor girl, 
he had been savage, brutal, drunken, cruel. 
They had read the filthy taunts in " Don Juan," 
and the nameless abominations in the Auto- 
biography. They had admitted among them- 
selves that his honor was lost ; but still this 
abused, desecrated woman must reverence her 
brutal master's memory, and not speak, even to 
defend the grave of her own kind father and 
mother. 

That there was 710 lover of her youth, 
that the marriage-vow had been a hideous, 



Il8 RESULTS AFTER LORD BYROn's DEATH. 

shameless cheat, is on the face of Moore's 
account ; yet the " Blackwood " does not see it 
nor feel it, and brings up against Lady Byron 
this touching story of a poor widow, who really 
had had a true lover once, — a lover maddened, 
imbruted, lost, through that very drunkenness 
in which the Noctes Club were always glorying. 

It is because of such transgressors as Byron, 
such supporters as Moore and the Noctes Club, 
that there are so many helpless, cowering, 
broken-hearted, abject women, given over to 
the animal love which they share alike with the 
poor dog, — the dog, who, beaten, kicked, starved, 
and cuffed, still lies by his drunken master with 
great anxious eyes of love and sorrow, and 
with sweet, brute forgiveness nestles upon his 
bosom, as he lies in his filth in the snowy ditch, 
to keep the warmth of life in him. Great is the 
mystery of this fidelity in the poor, loving 
brute, — most mournful and most sacred ! 

But oh, that a noble man should have no higher 
ideal of the love of a high-souled, heroic woman ! 



RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON S DEATH. II9 

Oh, that men should teach women that they 
have no higher duties, and are capable of no 
higher tenderness, than this loving, unquestion- 
ing animal fidelity ! The dog is ever-loving, 
ever-forgiving, because God has given him no 
high range of moral faculties, no sense of 
justice, no consequent horror at impurity and 
vileness. 

Much of the beautiful patience and for- 
giveness of women is made possible to them 
by that utter deadness to the sense of justice 
which the laws, literature, and misunderstood 
religion of England have sought to induce in 
woman as a special grace and virtue. 

The lesson to woman in this pathetic piece of 
special pleading is, that man may sink himself 
below the brute, may wallow in filth like the 
swine, may turn his home into a hell, beat and 
torture his children, forsake the marriage-bed 
for foul rivals ; yet all this does not dissolve 
the marriage-vow on her part, nor free his 
bounden serf from her obligation to honor his 



I20 RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON S DEATH. 

memory, — nay, to sacrifice to it the honor due 
to a kind father and mother, slandered in their 
silent graves. 

Such was the sympathy, and such the 
advice, that the best literature of England 
could give to a young widow, a peeress 
of England, whose husband, as they verily 
believed and admitted, might have done 
worse than all this ; whose crimes might have 
been " foul, monstrous, unforgivable as the sin 
against the Holy Ghost." If these things be 
done in the green tree, what shall be done in 
the dry } If the peeress as a wife has no rights, 
what is the state of the cotter's wife ? 

But, in the same paper. North again blames 
Lady Byron for not having come out with the 
whole story before the world at the time she 
separated from her husband. He says of the 
time when she first consulted counsel through 
her mother, keeping back one item, — 

" How weak, and worse than weak, at such a juncture, on 
which hung her whole fate, to ask legal advice on an imperfect 



RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON S DEATH. 121 

document ! Give the delicacy of a virtuous woman its due ; 
but at such a crisis, when the question was whether her con- 
science was to be free from the oath of oaths, delicacy should 
have died, and nature was privileged to show unashamed — if 
such there were — the records of uttermost pollution." 

Shepherd. — " And what think ye, sir, that a' this pollution 
could hae been, that sae electrified Dr. Lushington ? " 

North. — " Bad — bad — bad, James. Nameless, it is horri- 
ble : named, it might leave Byron's memory yet within the 
range of pity and forgiveness ; and, where they are, their sister 
affections will not be far ; though, like weeping seraphs, stand- 
ing aloof, and veiling their wings." 

Shepherd. — " She should indeed hae been silent — till the 
grave had closed on her sorrows as on his sins." 

North. — '■''Even now she should speak^ — or some one else for 
her, — ... and a few words will suffice. Worse the condition of 
the dead man's name cannot be — far, far better it might — I 
believe it would be — were all the truth somehow or other 
declared ; and declared it must be, not for Byron's sake onlv, 
but for the sake of humanity itself; and then a mitigated sen- 
tence, or eternal silence." 

We have another discussion of Lady Byron's 
duties in a further number of " Blackwood." 

The Memoir being out, it was proposed that 
there should be a complete annotation of 



122 RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON S DEATH. 

Byron's works gotten up, and adorned, for the 
further glorification of his memory, with portraits 
of the various women whom he had delighted to 
honor. 

Murray applied to Lady Byron for her por- 
trait, and was met with a cold, decided negative. 
After reading all the particulars of Byron's 
harem of mistresses, and Moore's comparisons 
between herself and La Guiccioli, one might 
imagine reasons why a lady, with proper self- 
respect, should object to appearing in this 
manner. One would suppose there might have 
been gentlemen who could well appreciate the 
motive of that refusal ; but it was only con- 
sidered a new evidence that she was indifferent 
to her conjugal duties, and wanting in that 
respect which Christopher North had told her 
she owed a husband's memory, though his 
crimes were foul as the rottenness of the grave. 

Never, since Queen Vashti refused to come 
at the command of a drunken husband to- 
show herself to his drunken lords, was there 



RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON S DEATH. 1 23 

a clearer case of disrespect to the marital dig- 
nity on the part of a wife. It was a plain act 
of insubordination, rebellion against law and 
order ; and how shocking in Lady Byron, who 
ought to feel herself but too much flattered to 
be exhibited to the public as the head wife of a 
man of genius ! 

Means were at once adopted to subdue her 
contumacy, of which one may read in a note to 
the "Blackwood" (Noctes), September, 1832. 
An artist was sent down to Ealing to take her 
picture by stealth as she sat in church. Two 
sittings were thus obtained without her knowl- 
edge. In the third one, the artist placed himself 
boldly before her, and sketched, so that she could 
not but observe him. We shall give the rest in 
Mackenzie's own words, as a remarkable speci- 
men of the obtuseness, not to say indelicacy of 
feeling, which seemed to pervade the literary 
circles of England at the time : — 

" After prayers, Wright and his friend (the artist) were 
visited by an ambassador from her ladyship to inquire the 



124 RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON S DEATH. 

meaning of what she had seen. The reply was, that Mr, Murray 
nmst have her portrait, and was compelled to take what she re- 
fused to give. The result was, Wright was requested to visit 
her, which he did ; taking with him, not the sketch, which was 
very good, but another, in which there was a strong touch of 
caricature. Rather than allow that to appear as her likeness 
(a very natural and womanly feeling by the way), she consented 
to sit for the portrait to W. J. Newton, which was engraved, 
and is here alluded to." 

The artless barbarism of this note is too good 
to be lost ; but it is quite borne out by the con- 
versation in the Noctes Club, which it illus- 
trates. 

It would appear from this conversation that 
these Byron beauties appeared successively in 
pamphlet form ; and the picture of Lady Byron 
is thus discussed : — 

MulUon. — "I don't know if you have seen the last brochure. 
It has a charming head of Lady Byron, who, it seems, sat on 
purpose : and that's very agreeable to hear of; for it shows her 
ladyship has got over any little soreness that Moore's Life 
occasioned, and is now willing to contribute any thing in her 
power to the real monument of Byron's genius." 



RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON S DEATH. 1 25 

North. — "I am delighted to hear of this : 'tis really very 
noble in the unfortunate lady. I never saw her. Is the face a 
striking one ? " 

Mullion. — " Eminently so, — a most calm, pensive, melan- 
choly style of native beauty, — and a most touching contrast to 
the maids of Athens, Annesley, and all the rest of them. I'm 
sure you'll have the proof Finden has sent you framed for 
the Boudoir at the Lodge." 

North. — " By all means. I mean to do that for all the Byron 
Beauties." 

But it may be asked, Was there not a man in 
all England with delicacy enough to feel for 
Lady Byron, and chivalry enough to speak a 
bold word for her } Yes : there was one. 
Thomas Campbell the poet, when he read Lady 
Byron's statement, believed it, as did Christo- 
pher North ; but it affected him differently. 
It appears he did not believe it a wife's duty to 
burn herself on her husband's funeral-pile, as 
did Christopher North ; and held the singular 
idea, that a wife had some rights as a human 
being as well as a husband. 

Lady Byron's own statement appeared in 



126 RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON's DEATH. 

pamphlet form in 1830 : at least, such is the 
date at the foot of the document. Thomas 
Campbell, in "The New Monthly Magazine," 
shortly after, printed a spirited, gentlemanly 
defence of Lady Byron, and administered a 
pointed rebuke to Moore for the rudeness and 
indelicacy he had shown in selecting from 
Byron's letters the coarsest against herself, her 
parents, and her old governess Mrs. Clermont, 
and by the indecent comparisons he had in- 
stituted between Lady Byron and Lord Byron's 
last mistress. 

It is refreshing to hear, at last, from somebody 
who is not altogether on his knees at the feet of 
the popular idol, and who has some chivalry for 
woman, and some idea of common humanity. 
He says, — 

" I found my right to speak on this painful subject, on its 
now irrevocable publicity, brought up afresh as it has been by 
Mr, Moore, to be the theme of discourse to millions, and, if I 
err not much, the cause of misconception to innumerable minds. 
I claim to speak of Lady Byron in the right of a man, and of a 
friend to the rights of woman, and to liberty, and to natural 



RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON S DEATH. 12/ 

religion. I claim a right, more especially, as one of the many 
friends of Lady Byron, who, one and all, feel aggrieved by this 
production. It has virtually dragged her forward from the 
shade of retirement, where she had hid her sorrows, and com- 
pelled her to defend the heads of her friends and her parents 
from being crushed under the tombstone of Byron. Nay, in a 
general view, it has forced her to defend herself ; though, with 
her true sense and her pure taste, she stands above all special 
pleading. To plenary explanation she ought not — she never 
shall ho. driven. Mr. Moore is too much a gentleman not to 
shudder at the thought of that ; but if other Byronists, of a 
far different stamp, were to force the savage ordeal, it is her 
enemies, and not she, that would have to dread the burning 
ploughshares. 

'* We, her friends, have no wish to prolong the discussion : 
but a few words we must add, even to her admirable statement ; 
for hers is a cause not only dear to her friends, but having 
become, from Mr. Moore and her misfortunes, a publicly- 
agitated cause, it concerns morality, and the most sacred rights 
of the sex, that she should (and that, too, without more special 
explanations) be acquitted out and out, and honorably ac- 
quitted, in this business, of all share in the blame, which is one 
and indivisible. Mr. Moore, on further reflection, may see 
this ; and his return to candor will surprise us less than his 
momentary deviation from its path. 

" For the tact of Mr. Moore's conduct in this affair, I have 
not to answer ; but, if indelicacy be charged upon me, I scorn 



128 RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON's DEATH. 

the charge. Neither will I submit to be called Lord Byron's 
accuser ; because a word against him I wish not to say 
beyond what is painfully wrung from me by the necessity of 
owning or illustrating Lady Byron's unblamableness, and of 
repelling certain misconceptions respecting her, which are now 
walking the fashionable world, and which have been fostered 
(though Heaven knows where they were born) most delicately 
and warily by the Christian godfathership of Mr. Moore. 

" I write not at Lady Byron's bidding. I have never 
humihated either her or myself by asking if I should write, 
or what I should write ; that is to say, I never applied to her 
for information against Lord Byron, though I was justified, as 
one intending to criticise Mr. Moore, in inquiring into the 
truth of some of his statements. Neither will I suffer myself 
to be called her champion, if by that word be meant the 
advocate of her mere legal innocence ; for that, I take it, 
nobody questions. 

" Still less is it from the sorry impulse of pity that I speak 
of this noble woman ; for I look with wonder and even envy at 
the proud purity of her sense and conscience, that have car- 
ried her exquisite sensibilities in triumph through such poign- 
ant tribulations. But I am proud to be called her friend, 
the humble illustrator of her cause, and the advocate of those 
principles which make it to me more interesting than Lord 
Byron's. Lady Byron (if the subject must be discussed) 
belongs to sentiment and morality (at least as much as Lord 
Byron) ; nor is she to be suffered, when compelled to speak, 



RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON S DEATH. 1 29 

to raise her voice as in a desert, with no friendly voice to 
respond to her. Lady Byron could not have outlived her 
sufferings if she had not wound up her fortitude to the high 
point of trusting mainly for consolation, not to the opinion of 
the world, but to her own inward peace ; and, having said 
what ought to convince the world, I verily believe that she has 
less care about the fashionable opinion respecting her than any 
of her friends can have. But we, her friends, mix with the 
world ; and we hear offensive absurdities about her, which we 
have a right to put down. 

" I proceed to deal more generally with Mr. Moore's 
book. You speak, Mr. Moore, against Lord Byron's censurers 
in a tone of indignation which is perfectly lawful towards 
calumnious traducers, but which will not terrify me, or any 
other man of courage who is no calumniator, from uttering his 
mind freely with regard to this part of your hero's conduct. I 
question your philosophy in assuming that all that is noble in 
Byron's poetry was inconsistent with the possibility of his 
being devoted to a pure and good woman ; and I repudiate 
your morality for canting too complacently about ' the lava of 
his imagination,' and the unsettled fever of his passions, being 
any excuses for his planting the tic douloureux of domestic 
suffering in a meek woman's bosom. 

" These are hard words, Mr. Moore ; but you have brought 
them on yourself by your voluntary ignorance of facts known 
to me : for you might and ought to have known both sides 



1 30 RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON S DEATH. 

of the question ; and, if the subject was too delicate for you 
to consult Lady Byron's confidential friends, you ought to have 
had nothing to do with the subject. But you cannot have sub- 
mitted your book even to Lord Byron's sister, otherwise she 
would have set you right about the imaginary spy, Mrs. 
Clermont." 

Campbell now goes on to print, at his own 
peril, he says, and without time to ask leave, the 
following note from Lady Byron in reply to an 
application he made to her, when he was about 
to review Moore's book, for an " estimate as to 
the correctness of Moore's statements." 

The following is Lady Byron's reply : — 

" Dear Mr. Campbell, — In taking up my pen to point out 
for your private information * those passages in Mr. Moore's 
representation of my part of the story which were open to con- 
tradiction, I find them of still greater extent than I had sup- 
posed ; and to deny an assertion Jm-e and there would virtually 
admit the truth of the rest. If, on the contrary, I were to enter 
into a full exposure of the falsehood of the views taken by Mr. 
Moore, I must detail various matters, which, consistently with 

* " I [Campbell] had not time to ask Lady Byron's permission to print 
this private letter ; but it seemed to me important, and I have published it 
i7teo periculoy * 



RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON S DEATH. I3I 

my principles and feelings, I cannot under the existing circum- 
stances disclose. I may, perhaps, convince you better of the 
difficulty of the case by an example : It is not true that pecu- 
niary embarrassments were the cause of the disturbed state of 
Lord Byron's mind, or formed the chief reason for the arrange- 
ments made by him at that time. But is it reasonable for me 
to expect that you or any one else should believe this, unless I 
show you what were the causes in question ? and this I cannot 
do. " I am, &c., 

"A. I. Noel Byron." 

Campbell then goes on to reprove Moore for 
his injustice to Mrs. Clermont, whom Lord Byron 
had denounced as a spy, but whose respecta- 
bility and innocence were vouched for by Lord 
Byron's own family ; and then he pointedly 
rebukes one false statement of great indelicacy 
and cruelty concerning Lady Byron's courtship, 
as follows : — 

" It is a further mistake on Mr. Moore's part, and I can 
prove it to be so, if proof be necessary, to represent Lady 
Byron, in the course of their courtship, as one inviting her future 
husband to correspondence by letters after she had at first 
refused him. She never proposed a correspondence. On the 
contr.ar)^, he sent her a message after that first refusal, stating 



132 RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON S DEATH. 

that he meant to go abroad, and to travel for some years in the 
East ; that he should depart with a heart aching, but not 
angry ; and that he only begged a verbal assurance that she 
had still some interest in his happiness. Could Miss Milbanke, 
as a well-bred woman, refuse a courteous answer to such a 
message ? She sent him a verbal answer, which was merely 
kind and becoming, but which signified no encouragement that 
he should renew his offer of marriage. 

" After that message, he wrote to her a most interesting letter 
about himself, — about his views, personal, moral, and reli- 
gious, — to which it would have been uncharitable not to have 
replied. The result was an insensibly increasing corre- 
spondence, which ended in her being devotedly attached to 
him. About that time, I occasionally saw Lord Byron ; and 
though I knew less of him than Mr. Moore, yet I suspect 
I knew as much of him as Miss Milbanke then knew. At that 
time, he was so pleasing, that, if I had had a daughter with 
ample fortune and beauty, I should have trusted her in marriage 
with Lord Byron. 

" Mr. Moore at that period evidently understood Lord Byron 
better than either his future bride or myself ; but this speaks 
more for Moore's shrewdness than for Byron's ingenuousness 
of character. 

" It is more for Lord Byron's sake than for his widow's that 
I resort not to a more special examination of Mr. Moore's mis- 
conceptions. The subject would lead me insensibly into hateful 
disclosures against poor Lord Byron, who is more unfortunate 



RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON S DEATH. 1 33 

in his rash defenders than in his reluctant accusers. Happily, 
his own candor turns our hostility from himself against his de- 
fenders. It was only in wayward and bitter remarks that he 
misrepresented Lady Byron. He would have defended himself 
irresistibly if Mr. Moore had left only his acknowledging pas- 
sages. But Mr. Moore has produced a Life of him which 
reflects blame on Lady Byron so dexterously, that ' more is 
meant than meets the ear.' The almost universal impression 
produced by his book is, that Lady Byron must be a precise 
and a wan, unwarming spirit, a blue-stocking of chilblained 
learning, a piece of insensitive goodness. 

" Who that knows Lady Byron will not pronounce her to be 
every thing the reverse ? Will it be believed that this person, 
so unsuitably matched to her moody lord, has written verses 
that would do no discredit to Byron himself; that her sensi- 
tiveness is surpassed and bounded only by her good sense ; 
and that she is 

* Blest with a temper, whose unclouded ray 
Can make to-morrow cheerful as to-day ' ? 

" She brought to Lord Byron beauty, manners, fortune, 
meekness, romantic affection, and every thing that ought to have 
made her to the most transcendent man of genius — had he 
been what he should have been — his pride and his idol. I speak 
not of Lady Byron in the commonplace manner of attesting 
character : I appeal to the gifted Mrs. Siddons and Joanna 
Baillie, to Lady Charlemont, and to other ornaments of their 



134 RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON S DEATH. 

sex, whether I am exaggerating in the least when I say, that, in 
their whole lives, they have seen few beings so intellectual and 
well-tempered as Lady Byron. 

" I wish to be as ingenuous as possible in speaking of her. 
Her manner, I have no hesitation to say, is cool at the first 
interview, but is modestly, and not insolently, cool : she " con- 
tracted it, I believe, from being exposed by her beauty and 
large fortune, in youth, to numbers of suitors, whom she 
could not have otherwise kept at a distance. But this 
manner could have had no influence with Lord Byron ; for 
it vanishes on nearer acquaintance, and has no origin in cold- 
ness. All her friends like her frankness the better for being 
preceded by this reserve. This manner, however, though not 
the slightest apology for Lord Byron, has been inimical to Lady 
Byron in her misfortunes. It endears her to her friends ; but it 
piques the indifferent. Most odiously unjust, therefore, is Mr. 
Moore's assertion, that she has had the advantage of Lord 
Byron in public opinion. She is, comparatively speaking, un- 
known to the world ; for though she has many friends, that is, 
a friend in every one who knows her, yet her pride and purity 
and misfortunes naturally contract the circle of her acquaint- 
ance. 

*' There is something exquisitely unjust in Mr. Moore com- 
paring her chance of popularity with Lord Byron's, the poet 
who can command men of talents, — putting even Mr. Moore 
into the livery of his service, — and who has suborned the favor 
of almost all women by the beauty of his person and the volup- 



RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON S DEATH. 1 35 

tuousness of his verses. Lady Byron has nothing to oppose to 
these fascinations but the truth and justice of her cause. 

" You said, Mr. Moore, that Lady Byron was unsuitable to 
her lord : the word is cunningly insidious, and may mean as 
much or as little as may suit your convenience. But, if she was 
unsuitable, I remark that it tells all the worse against Lord 
Byron. I have not read it in your book (for I hate to wade 
through it) ; but they tell me that you have not only warily 
depreciated Lady Byron, but that you have described a lady 
that would have suited him. If this be true, 'it is the unkindest 
cut of all,' — to hold up a florid description of a woman suitable 
to Lord Byron, as if in mockery over the forlorn flower of vir- 
tue that was drooping in the solitude of sorrow. 

" But I trust there is no such passage in your book. Surely 
you must be conscious of your woman, with her ' virtue loose 
about her, who tuoiild have sicited Lord Byron,'' to be as imagi- 
nary a being as the woman without a head. A woman to suit 
Lord Byron ! Poo, poo ! I could paint to you the woman 
that could have matched him, if I had not bargained to say as 
little as possible against him. 

" If Lady Byron was not suitable to Lord Byron, so much 
the worse for his lordship ; for let me tell you, Mr. Moore, 
that neither your poetry, nor Lord Byron's, nor all our poetry 
put together, ever delineated a more interesting being than the 
woman whom you have so coldly treated. This was not kick- 
ing the dead lion, but wounding the living lamb, who was 
already bleeding and shorn, even unto the quick. I know, that, 



136 RESULTS AFTER LORD BYROn's DEATH. 

collectively speaking, the world is in Lady Byron's favor ; but 
it is coldly favorable, and you have not warmed its breath. 
Time, however, cures every thing ; and even your book, Mr. 
Moore, may be the means of Lady Byron's character being 
better appreciated. " Thomas Campbell." 

Here is what seems to be a gentlemanly, high- 
spirited, chivalric man, throwing down his glove 
in the lists for a pure woman. 

What was the consequence ? Campbell was 
crowded back, thrust down, overwhelmed, his 
eyes filled with dust, his mouth with ashes. 

There was a general confusion and outcry, 
which re-acted both on him and on Lady Byron. 
Her friends were angry with him for having 
caused this re-action upon her ; and he found 
himself at once attacked by Lady Byron's ene- 
mies, and deserted by her friends. All the lite- 
rary authorities of his day took up against him 
with energy. Christopher North, professor of 
moral philosophy in the Edinburgh University, 
in a fatherly talk in " The Noctes," condemns 
Campbell, and justifies Moore, and heartily rec- 



RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON S DEATH. I37 

ommends his Biography, as containing nothing 
materially objectionable on the score either of 
manners or morals. Thus we have it in " The 
Noctes " of May, 1830 : — 

" Mr. Moore's biographical book I admired ; and I said so to 
my little world, in two somewhat lengthy articles, which many 
approved, and some, I am sorry to know, condemned." 

On the point in question between Moore and 
Campbell, North goes on to justify Moore alto- 
gether, only admitting that " it would have been 
better had he not printed any coarse expres- 
sion of Byron's about the old people ; " and, 
finally, he closes by saying, — 

" I do not think, that, under the circumstances, Mr. Camp- 
bell himself, had he written Byron's Life, could have spoken, with 
the sentiments he then held, in a better, more manly, and more 
gentlemanly spirit, in so far as regards Lady Byron, than Mr. 
Moore did : and I am sorry he has been deterred from ' swim- 
ming ' through Mr. Moore's work by the fear of ' wading ; ' for 
the waters are clear and deep ; nor is there any mud, either at 
the bottom or round the margin." 



138 RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON's DEATH. 

Of the conduct of Lady Byron's so-called 
friends on this occasion it is more difficult to 
speak. 

There has always been in England, as John 
Stuart Mill says, a class of women who glory in 
the utter self-abnegation of the wife to the hus- 
band, as the special crown of womanhood. Their 
patron saint is the Griselda of Chaucer, who, 
when her husband humiliates her, and treats her 
as a brute, still accepts all with meek, unquestion- 
ing, uncomplaining devotion. He tears her from 
her children ; he treats her with personal abuse ; 
he repudiates her, — sends her out to nakedness 
and poverty ; he installs another mistress in his 
house, and sends for the first to be her hand- 
maid and his own : and all this the meek saint 
accepts in the words of Milton, — 

" My guide and head, 
What thou hast said is just and right." 

Accordingly, Miss Martineau tells us, that 
when Campbell's defence came out, coupled with 
a note from Lady Byron, — 



RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON S DEATH. 1 39 

" The first obvious remark was, that there was no real 
disclosure ; and the whole affair had the appearance of a 
desire, on the part of Lady Byron, to exculpate herself, while 
yet no adequate information was given. Many, who had re- 
garded her with favor till then, gave her up so far as to believe 
that feminine weakness had prevailed at last." 

The saint had fallen from her pedestal ! She 
had shown a human frailty ! ' Quite evidently 
she is not a Griselda, but possessed with a 
shocking desire to exculpate herself and her 
friends. 

Is it, then, only to slandered men that the 
privilege belongs of desiring to exculpate them- 
selves and their families and their friends from 
unjust censure } 

Lord Byron had made it a life-long object to 
vilify and defame his wife. He had used for 
that one particular purpose every talent that he 
possessed. He had left it as a last charge to 
Moore to pursue the warfare after death, which 
Moore had done to some purpose ; and Christo- 
pher North had informed Lady Byron that her 



140 RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON S DEATH. 

private affairs were discussed, not only with the 
whiskey-toddy of the Noctes Club, but in every 
drawing-room in May Fair; and declared that 
the " Dear Duck " letter, and various other mat- 
ters, must be explained, and urged somebody to 
speak ; and then, when Campbell does speak with 
all the energy of a real gentleman, a general out- 
cry and an indiscriminate vielee is the result. 

The world, with its usual injustice, insisted on 
attributing Campbell's defence to Lady Byron. 

The reasons for this seemed to be, first, that 
Campbell states that he did not ask Lady By- 
ron's leave, and that she did not authorize him 
to defend her ; and, second, that, having asked 
some explanations from her, he prints a note in 
which she declines to give any. 

We know not how a lady could more gently 
yet firmly decline to make a gentleman her 
confidant than in this published note of Lady 
Byron ; and yet, to this day, Campbell is spoken 
of by the world as having been Lady Byron's 
confidant at this time. This simply shows how 



RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON S DEATH. I4I 

very trustworthy are the general assertions about 
Lady Byron's confidants. 

The final result of the matter, so far as Camp- 
bell was concerned, is given in Miss Martineau's 
sketch, in the following paragraph : — 

" The whole transaction was one of poor Campbell's freaks. 
He excused himself by saj-ing it was a mistake of his ; that he 
did not know what he was about when he published the paper." 

It is the saddest of all sad things to see a 
man, who has spoken from moral convictions, in 
advance of his day, and who has taken a stand 
for which he ought to honor himself, thus forced 
down and humiliated, made to doubt his own 
better nature and his own honorable feelings, 
by the voice of a wicked world. 

Campbell had no steadiness to stand by the 
truth he saw. His whole story is told inci- 
dentally in a note to " The Noctes," in which 
it is stated, that in an article in " Blackwood," 
January, 1825, on Scotch poets, the palm vvas 
given to Hogg over Campbell ; " one ground 



142 RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON S DEATH. 

being, that he could drink 'eight and twenty 
tumblers of punch, while Campbell is hazy upon 
seven.' " 

There is evidence in " The Noctes," that in 
due time Campbell was reconciled to Moore, and 
was always suitably ashamed of having tried to 
be any more generous or just than the men of 
his generation. 

And so it was settled as a law to Jacob, and 
an ordinance in Israel, that the Byron worship 
should proceed, and that all the earth should 
keep silence before him. " Don Juan," that, 
years before, had been printed by stealth, without 
Murray's name on the titlepage, that had been 
denounced as a book which no woman should 
read, and had been given up as a desperate enter- 
prise, now came forth in triumph, with banners 
flying and drums beating. Every great periodi- 
cal in England that had fired moral volleys of 
artillery against it in its early days, now humbly 
marched in the glorious procession of admirers 
to salute this edifying work of genius. 



RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON S DEATH. 1 43 

" Blackwood," which in the beginning had 
been the most indignantly virtuous of the whole, 
now grovelled and ate dust as the serpent in 
the very abjectpess of submission. Odoherty 
(Maginn) declares that he would rather have 
written a page of " Don Juan " than a ton of 
" Childe Harold." * Timothy Tickler informs 
Christopher North that he means to tender Mur- 
ray, as Emperor of the North, an interleaved 
copy t of '* Don Juan," with illustrations, as the 
only work of Byron's he cares much about ; and 
Christopher North, professor of moral philoso- 
phy in Edinburgh, smiles approval ! We are not, 
after this, surprised to see the assertion, by a 
recent much-aggrieved writer in " The London 
Era," that " Lord Byron has been, more than 
any other man of the age, the teacher of the 
youth of England ; " and that he has " seen his 
works on the bookshelves of bishops palaces, no 
less than the tables of university under-gradu- 
ates." 

* Noctes, July, 1822. t Noctes, September, 1832. 



144 RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON S DEATH. 

A note to "The Noctes " of July, 1822, in- 
forms us of another instance of Lord Byron's 
triumph over EngHsh morals : — 

"The mention of this" (Byron's going t6 Greece) "reminds 
me, by the by, of what the Guiccioli said in her visit to Lon- 
don, where she was so lionized as having been the lady-love of 
Byron. She was rather fond of speaking on the subject, des- 
ignating herself by some Venetian pet phrase, which she inter- 
preted as meaning * Love -Wife.' " 

What was Lady Byron to do in such a world ? 
She retired to the deepest privacy, and devoted 
herself to works of charity, and the education of 
her only child, — that brilliant daughter, to whose 
eager, opening mind the whole course of current 
literature must bring so many trying questions in 
regard to the position of her father and mother, 
— questions that the mother might not answer. 
That the cruel inconsiderateness of the literary 
world added thorns to the intricacies of the path 
trodden by every mother who seeks to guide, 
restrain, and educate a strong, acute, and preco- 
ciously intelligent child, must easily be seen. 



RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON's DEATH. 1 45 

What remains to be said of Lady Byron's life 
shall be said in the words of Miss Martineau, 
published in " The Atlantic Monthly : " — 

" Her life, thenceforth, was one of unremitting bounty to 
societ)', administered with as much skill and prudence as be- 
nevolence. She lived in retirement, changing her abode fre- 
quently ; partly for the benefit of her child's education and the 
promotion of her benevolent schemes, and partly from a rest- 
lessness which was one of the few signs of injury received from 
the spoiling of associations with home. 

" She felt a satisfaction which her friends rejoiced in when her 
daughter married Lord King, at present the Earl of Lovelace, 
in 1835 ; and when grief upon grief followed, in the appearance 
of mortal disease in her only child, her quiet patience stood 
her in good stead as before. She even found strength to ap- 
propriate the blessings of the occasion, and took comfort, as 
did her dying daughter, in the intimate friendship, which grew 
closer as the time of parting drew nigh. 

" Lady Lovelace died in 1852 ; and, for her few remaining 
years. Lady Byron was devoted to her grandchildren. But 
nearer calls never lessened her interest in remoter objects. 
Her mind was of the large and clear quality which could com- 
prehend remote interests in their true proportions, and achieve 
each aim as perfectly as if it were the only one. Her agents 
used to say that it was impossible to mistake her directions ; 



146 RESULTS AFTER LORD BYROn's DEATH. 

and thus her business was usually well done. There was no 
room, in her case, for the ordinary doubts, censures, and sneers 
about the misapplication of bounty. 

" Her taste did not lie in the * Charity-Ball ' direction ; 
her funds were not lavished in encouraging hypocrisy and 
improvidence among the idle and worthless ; and the quality 
of her charity was, in fact, as admirable as its quantity. Her 
chief aim was the extension and improvement of popular 
education ; but there was no kind of misery that she heard 
of that she did not palliate to the utmost, and no kind of solace 
that her quick imagination and sympathy could devise that she 
did not administer. 

"In her methods, she united consideration and frankness 
with singular success. For one instance among a thousand : 
A lady with whom she had had friendly relations some time 
before, and who became impoverished in a quiet way by hope- 
less sickness, preferred poverty with an easy conscience to a 
competency attended by some uncertainty about the perfect 
rectitude of the resource. Lady Byron wrote to an intermediate 
person exactly what she thought of the case. Whether the 
judgment of the sufferer was right or mistaken was nobody's 
business but her own : this was the first point. Next, a vol- 
untary poverty could never be pitied by anybody : that was the 
second. But it was painful to others to think of the mortifica- 
tion to benevolent feelings which attends poverty ; and there 
could be no objection to arresting that pain. Therefore she, 
Lady Byron, had lodged in a neighboring bank the sum of 



RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON S DEATH. 1 4/ 

one hundred pounds, to be used for benevolent purposes ; and, 
in order to preclude all outside speculation, she had made 
the money payable to the order of the intermediate person, 
so that the sufferer's name need not appear at all. 

" Five and thirty years of unremitting secret bounty like this 
must make up a great amount of human happiness ; but this 
was only one of a wide variety of methods of doing good. It 
was the unconcealable magnitude of her beneficence, and its 
wise quality, which made her a second time the theme of Eng- 
lish conversation in all honest households within the four seas. 
Years ago, it was said far and wide that Lady Byron was doing 
more good than anybody else in England ; and it was difficult 
to imagine how anybody could do more. 

" Lord Byron spent every shilling that the law allowed him out 
of her property while he lived, and left away from her every 
shilling that he could deprive her of by his will ; yet she 
had, eventually, a large income at her command. In the 
management of it, she showed the same wise consideration 
that marked all her practical decisions. She resolved to spend 
her whole income, seeing how much the world needed help at 
the moment. Her care was for the existing generation, rather 
than for a future one, which would have its own friends. She 
usually declined trammelling herself with annual subscrip- 
tions to charities ; preferring to keep her freedom from year to 
year, and to achieve definite objects by liberal bount}', rather 
than to extend partial help over a large surface which she 
could not herself superintend. 



148 RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON's DEATH. 

" It was her first industrial school that awakened the admira- 
tion of the public, which had never ceased to take an interest 
in her, while sorely misjudging her character. We hear much 
now — and everybody hears it with pleasure — of the spread of 
education in 'common things;' but long before Miss Coutts 
inherited her wealth, long before a name was found for such a 
method of training. Lady Byron had instituted the thing, and 
put it in the way of making its own name. 

" She was living at Ealing, in Middlesex, in 1834 ; and there 
she opened one of the first industrial schools in England, if 
not the very first. She sent out a master to Switzerland, to be 
instructed in De Fellenburgh's method. She took, on lease, 
five acres of land, and spent several hundred pounds in render- 
ing the buildings upon it fit for the purposes of the school. A 
liberal education was afforded to the children of artisans and 
laborers during the half of the day when they were not 
employed in the field or garden. The allotments were rented 
by the boys, who raised and sold produce, which afforded 
them a considerable yearly profit if they were good workmen. 
Those who worked in the field earned wages ; their labor 
being paid by the hour, according to the capability of the 
young laborer. They kept their accounts of expenditure and 
receipts, and acquired good habits of business while learning 
the occupation of their lives. Some mechanical trades were 
taught, as well as the arts of agriculture. 

" Part of the wisdom of the management lay in making the 
pupils pay. Of one hundred pupils, half were boarders. They 



RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON S DEATH. 1 49 

paid little more than half the expenses of their maintenance, and 
the day-scholars paid threepence per week, ' Of course, a large 
part of the expense was borne by Lady Byron, besides the pay- 
ments she made for children who could not otherwise have en- 
tered the school. The establishment flourished steadily till 
1852, when the owner of the land required it back for building- 
purposes. During the eighteen years that the Ealing schools 
were in action, they did a world of good in the way of incite- 
ment and example. The poor-law commissioners pointed out 
their merits. Land-owners and other wealthy persons visited 
them, and went home and set up sitnilar establishments. Dur- 
ing those years, too. Lady Byron had herself been at work in 
various directions to the same purpose. 

" A more extensive industrial scheme was instituted on her 
Leicestershire property, and not far off she opened a girls' 
school and an infant school ; and when a season of distress 
came, as such seasons are apt to befall the poor Leicestershire 
stocking-weavers, Lady Byron fed the children for months to- 
gether, till they could resume their payments. These school 
were opened in 1840. The next year, she built a schoolhouse 
on her Warwickshire property ; and, five years later, she set up 
an iron schoolhouse on another Leicestershire estate. 

" By this time, her educational efforts were costing her several 
hundred pounds a year in the mere maintenance of existing 
establishments ; but this is the smallest consideration in the 
case. She has sent out tribes of boys and girls into life fit to do 
their part there with skill and credit and comfort. Perhaps it is a 



150 RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON S DEATH. 

still more important consideration, that scores of teachers and 
trainers have been led into their vocation, and duly prepared 
for it, by what they saw and learned in her schools. As for the 
best and the worst of the Ealing boys, the best have, in a few 
cases, been received into the Battersea Training School, whence 
they could enter on their career as teachers to the greatest ad- 
vantage ; and the worst found their school a true reformatory, 
before reformatory schools were heard of. At Bristol, she 
bought a house for a reformatory for girls ; and there her 
friend, Miss Carpenter, faithfully and energetically carries out 
her own and Lady Byron's aims, which were one and the same. 

" There would be no end if I were to catalogue the schemes 
of which these are a specimen. It is of more consequence to 
observe that her mind was never narrowed by her own acts, as 
the minds of benevolent people are so apt to be. To the last, 
her interest in great political movements, at home and abroad, 
was as vivid as ever. She watched every step won in philoso- 
phy, every discovery in science, every token of social change 
and progress in every shape. Her mind was as liberal as her 
heart and hand. No diversity of opinion troubled her : she 
was respectful to every sort of individuality, and indulgent to 
all constitutional peculiarities. It must have puzzled those who 
kept up the notion of her being * strait-laced ' to see how indul- 
gent she was even to Epicurean tendencies, — the remotest of 
all from her own. 

" But I must stop ; for I do not wish my honest memorial to 
degenerate into panegyric. Among her latest known acts were 



RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON S DEATH. I51 

her gifts to the Sicilian cause, and her manifestations on behalf 
of the antislavery cause in the United States. Her kindness 
to William and Ellen Craft must be well known there ; and it is 
also related in the newspapers, that she bequeathed a legacy to 
a young American to assist him under any disadvantages he 
might suffer as an abolitionist. 

" All these deeds were done under a heavy burden of ill 
health. Before she had passed middle life, her lungs were be- 
lieved to be irreparably injured by partial ossification. She was 
subject to attacks so serious, that each one, for many years, was 
expected to be the last. She arranged her affairs in correspond- 
ence with her liabilities : so that the same order would have 
been found, whether she died suddenly or after long warning. 

" She was to receive one more accession of outward greatness 
before she departed. She became Baroness Wentworth in 
November, 1856. This is one of the facts of her history ; but 
it is the least interesting to us, as probably to her. We care 
more to know that her last days were bright in honor, and 
cheered by the attachment of old friends worthy to pay the 
duty she deserved. Above all, it is consoling to know that she 
who so long outlived her only child was blessed with the unre- 
mitting and tender care of her grand-daughter. She died on 
the 1 6th of May, i860. 

" The portrait of Lady Byron as she was at the time of her 
marriage is probably remembered by some of my readers. It is 
very engaging. Her countenance afterwards became much 
worn ; but its expression of thoughtfulness and composure was 



152 RESULTS AFTER LORD BYRON S DEATH. 

very interesting. Her handwriting accorded well with th* 
character of her mind. It was clear, elegant, and womanly. 
Her manners differed with circumstances. Her shrinking sen-, 
sitiveness might embarrass one visitor ; while another would be 
charmed with her easy, significant, and vivacious conversation. 
It depended much on whom she talked with. The abiding cer- 
tainty was, that she had strength for the hardest of human 
trials, and the composure which belongs to strength. For the 
rest, it is enough to point to her deeds, and to the mourning of 
her friends round the chasm which her departure has made in 
their life, and in the society in which it is spent. All that could 
be done in the way of personal love and honor was done while 
she lived : it only remains now to see that her name and fame 
are permitted to shine forth at last in their proper light." 

We have simply to ask the reader whether a 
life like this was not the best, the noblest 
answer that a woman could make to a doubting 
world. 



CHAPTER V. 

THE ATTACK ON LADY BYRON's GRAVE. 

^T /"E have now brought the review of the 
antagonism against Lady Byron down to 
the period of her death. During all this time, let 
the candid reader ask himself which of these two 
parties seems to be plotting against the other. 

Which has been active, aggressive, unscrupu- 
lous } which has been silent, quiet, unoffending 1 
Which of the two has labored to make a party, 
and to make that party active, watchful, enthusi- 
astic } 

Have we not proved that Lady Byron re- 
mained perfectly silent during Lord Byron's life, 
patiently looking out from her retirement to 
see the waves of popular sympathy, that once 
bore her up, day by day retreating, while his ac- 



1 54 ATTACK ON LADY BYRON S GRAVE. 

cusations against her were resounding in his 
poems over the whole earth ? And after Lord 
Byron's death, when all the world with one con- 
sent began to give their memorials of him, and 
made it appear, by their various " recollections 
of conversations," how incessantly he had ob- 
truded his own version of the separation upon 
every listener, did she manifest any similar eager- 
ness ? 

Lady Byron had seen the " Blackwood " 
coming forward, on the first appearance of " Don 
Juan," to rebuke the cowardly lampoon in words 
eloquent with all the unperverted vigor of an 
honest Englishman. Under the power of the 
great conspirator, she had seen that " Black- 
wood" become the very eager recipient and 
chief reporter of the stories against her, and 
the blind admirer of her adversary. 

All this time, she lost sympathy daily by 
being silent. The world will embrace those 
who court it ; it will patronize those who seek 
its favor ; it will make parties for those who 



ATTACK ON LADY BYRON S GRAVE. 1 55 

seek to make parties : but for the often ac- 
cused who do not speak, who make no con- 
fidants and no parties, the world soon loses sym- 
pathy. 

When at last she spoke, Christopher North 
says " she astonished the worlds Calm, clear, 
courageous, exact as to time, date, and circum- 
stance, was that first testimony, backed by the 
equally clear testimony of Dr. Lushington. 

It showed that her secret had been kept even 
from her parents. In words precise, firm, and 
fearless, she says, " If these statements on 
which Dr. Lushington and Sir Samuel Romilly 
formed their opinion were false, the responsi- 
bility and the odium should rest with me only." 
Christopher North did not pretend to disbelieve 
this statement. He breathed not a doubt of 
Lady Byron's word. He spoke of the crime 
indicated, as one which might have been foul 
as the grave's corruption, unforgivable as the 
sin against the Holy Ghost. He rebuked the 
wife for bearing this testimony, even to save 



156 ATTACK ON LADY BYRON's GRAVE. 

the memory of her dead father and mother, and, 
in the same breath, declared that she ought now 
to go farther, and speak fully the one awful word, 
and then — "a mitigated sentence, or eternal 
silence ! " 

But Lady Byron took no counsel with the 
world, nor with the literary men of her age. 
One knight, with some small remnant of Eng- 
land's old chivalry, set lance in rest for her : she 
saw him beaten back unhorsed, rolled in the 
dust, and ingloriously vanquished, and perceived 
that henceforth nothing but injury could come 
to any one who attempted to speak for her. 

She turned from the judgments of man and 
the fond and natural hopes of human nature, 
to lose herself in sacred ministries to the down- 
cast and suffering. What nobler record for 
woman could there be than that which Miss 
Martineau has given ? 

Particularly to be noted in Lady Byron was 
her peculiar interest in reclaiming fallen women. 
Among her letters to Mrs. Prof. Pollen of 



ATTACK ON LADY BYRON S GRAVE. 1 57 

Cambridge was one addressed to a society of 
ladies who had undertaken this difficult work. 
It was full of heavenly wisdom and of a large 
and tolerant charity. Fenelon truly says, it is 
only perfection that can tolerate imperfection ; 
and the very purity of Lady Byron's nature 
made her most forbearing and most tender 
towards the weak and the guilty. This letter, 
with all the rest of Lady Byron's, was returned 
to the hands of her executors after her death. 
Its publication would greatly assist the world in 
understanding the peculiarities of its writer's 
character. 

Lady Byron passed to a higher life in i860.* 
After her death, I looked for the publication of 
her Memoir and Letters as the event that 
should give her the same opportunity of be- 
ing known and judged by her life and writ- 
ings that had been so freely accorded to Lord 
Byron. 

She was, in her husband's estimation, a woman 

* Miss Martineau's Biographical Sketches. 



158 ATTACK ON LADY BYROn's GRAVE. 

of genius. She was the friend of many of the 
first men and women of her times, and corre- 
sponded with them on topics of hterature, morals, 
reHgion, and, above all, on the benevolent and 
jDhilanthropic movements of the day, whose prin- 
ciples she had studied with acute observation, 
and in connection with which she had acquired a 
large experience. 

The knowledge of her, necessarily diffused by 
such a series of letters, would have created in 
America a comprehension of her character, of 
itself sufficient to wither a thousand slanders. 

Such a Memoir was conternplated. Lady 
Byron's letters to Mrs. Follen were asked for 
from Boston ; and I was applied to by a person 
in England, who I have recently learned is one 
of the existing trustees of Lady Byron's papers, 
to furnish copies of her letters to me for the 
purpose of a Memoir. Before I had time to have 
copies made, another letter came, stating that the 
trustees had concluded that it was not best to 
publish any Memoir of Lady Byron at all. 



ATTACK ON LADY BYRON S GRAVE. 1 59 

This left the character of Lady Byron in our 
American world precisely where the slanders 
of her husband, the literature of the Noctes 
Club, and the unanimous verdict of May Fair 
as recorded by '' Blackwood," had placed it. 

True, Lady Byron had nobly and quietly lived 
down these slanders in England by deeds 
that made her name revered as a saint among 
all those who valued saintliness. 

But in France and Italy, and in these 
United States, I have had abundant oppor- 
tunity to know that Lady Byron stood 
judged and condemned on the testimony of 
her brilliant husband, and that the feeling 
against her had a vivacity and intensity not 
to be overcome by mere allusions to a virtuous 
life in distant England. 

This is strikingly shown by one fact. In the 
American edition of Moore's " Life of Byron," 
by Claxton, Remsen, and Haffelfinger, Philadel- 
phia, 1869, which I have been consulting, Lady 
Byron's statement, which is found in the Appen- 



l60 ATTACK ON LADY BYRON's GRAVE. 

dix of Murray's standard edition, is enthely 
omitted. Every other paper is carefully pre- 
served. This one incident showed how the tide 
of sympathy was setting in this New World. 
Of course, there is no stronger power than a 
virtuous life ; but, for a virtuous life to bear testi- 
mony to the world, its details must be told, so 
that the world may know them. 

Suppose the memoirs of Clarkson and Wilber- 
force had been suppressed after their death, how 
soon might the coming tide have wiped out the 
record of their bravery and philanthropy ! Sup- 
pose the lives of Francis Xavier and Henry 
Martyn had never been written, and we had lost 
the remembrance of what holy men could do 
and dare in the divine enthusiasm of Christian 
faith ! Suppose we had no Fenelon, no Book of 
Martyrs ! 

Would there not be an outcry through all the 
literary and artistic world if a perfect statue 
were allowed to remain buried forever because 
some painful individual history was connected 



ATTACK ON LADV BYRON's GRAVE. l6l 

with its burial and its recovery ? But is not a 
noble life a greater treasure to mankind than 
any work of art ? 

We have heard much mourning over the burned 
Autobiography of Lord Byron, and seen it treated 
of in a magazine as " the lost chapter in history." 
The lost chapter in history is Lady Byron's Auto- 
biography in her life and letters ; and the sup- 
pression of them is the root of this whole 
mischief 

We do not in this intend to censure the par- 
ties who came to this decision. 

The descendants of Lady Byron revere her 
memory, as they have every reason to do. That 
it was their desire to have a Memoir of her 
published, I have been informed by an indi- 
vidual of the highest character in England, who 
obtained the information directly from Lady 
Byron's grandchildren. 

But the trustees in whose care the papers 
were placed drew back on examination of them, 
and declared, that, as Lady Byron's papers could 



1 62 ATTACK ON LADY BYRON's GRAVE. 

not be fully published, they should regret any 
thing that should call public attention once more 
to the discussion of her history. 

Reviewing this long history of the way in 
which the literary world had treated Lady Byron, 
we cannot wonder that her friends should have 
doubted whether there was left on earth any jus- 
tice, or sense that any thing is due to woman as a 
human being with human rights. Evidently this 
lesson had taken from them all faith in the moral 
sense of the world. Rather than re-awaken the 
discussion, so unsparing, so painful, and so in- 
delicate, which had been carried on so many 
years around that loved form, now sanctified by 
death, they sacrificed the dear pleasure of the 
memorials, and the interests of mankind, who 
have an indefeasible right to all the help that 
can be got from the truth of history as to the 
living power of virtue, and the reality of that 
great victory that overcometh the world. 

There are thousands of poor victims suffering 
in sadness, discouragement, and poverty ; heart- 



ATTACK ON LADY 3YR0N*S GRAVE. 1 63 

broken wives of brutal, drunken husbands ; 
women enduring nameless wrongs and horrors 
which the delicacy of their sex forbids them to 
utter, — to whom the lovely letters lying hidden 
away under those seals might bring courage and 
hope from springs not of this world. 

But though the friends of Lady Byron, per- 
haps from despair of their kind, from weariness 
of the utter injustice done her, wished to cherish 
her name in silence, and to confine the story of 
her virtues to that circle who knew her too well 
to ask a proof, or utter a doubt, the partisans of 
Lord Byron were embarrassed with no such 
scruple. 

Lord Byron had artfully contrived during his 
life to place his wife in such an antagonistic 
position with regard to himself, that his inti- 
mate friends were forced to believe that one of 
the two had deliberately and wantonly injured 
the other. The published statement of Lady 
Byron contradicted boldly and point-blank all 
the statement of her husband concerning the 



164 ATTACK ON LADY BYRON S GRAVE. 

separation : so that, unless she was convicted as 
a false witness, Jie certainly was. 

The best evidence of this is Christopher 
North's own shocked, astonished statement, and 
the words of the Noctes Club. 

The noble life that Lady Byron lived after 
this hushed every voice, and silenced even the 
most desperate calumny, while she was in the 
world. In the face of Lady Byron as the world 
saw her, of what use was the talk of Clytemnes- 
tra, and the assertion that she had been a mean, 
deceitful conspirator against her husband's honor 
in life, and stabbed his memory after death .? 

But when she was in her grave, when her 
voice and presence and good deeds no more 
spoke for her, and a new generation was grow- 
ing up that knew her not, then was the time 
selected to revive the assault on her memory, 
and to say over her grave what none would ever 
have dared to say of her while living. 

During these last two years, I have been grad- 
ually awakening to the evidence of a new crusade 



ATTACK ON LADY BYRON's GRAVE. 1 65 

against the memory of Lady Byron, which re- 
spected no sanctity, — not* even that last and 
most awful one of death. 

Nine years after her death, when it was 
fully understood that no story on her side or 
that of her friends was to be forthcoming, then 
her calumniators raked out from the ashes of 
her husband's sepulchre all his bitter charges, 
to state them over in even stronger and more 
indecent forms. 

There seems to be reason to think that the 
materials supplied by Lord Byron for such a 
campaign yet exist in society. 

To " The Noctes " of November, 1824, there is 
the following note apropos to a discussion of the 
Byron question : — 

" Byron's Memoirs, given by him to Moore, were burned, as 
everybody knows. But, before this, Moore had lent them to 
several persons. Mrs. Home Purvis, afterwards Viscountess of 
Canterbury, is known to have sat up all one night, in which, 
aided by her daughter, she had a copy made. I have the 
strongest reason for believing that one other person made a 



1 66 ATTACK ON LADY BYROn's GRAVE. 

copy ; for the description of the first twenty-four hours after the 
marriage ceremonial has been in my hands. Not tintil after the 
death of Lady Byron, and Hothouse, who was the poet's literary 
executor, can the poet's Autobiography see the light ; but I ant 
certain it will be published. " 

Thus speaks Mackenzie in a note to a volume 
of "The Noctes," published in America in 1854. 
Lady Byron died in i860. 

Nine years after Lady Byron's death, when it 
was ascertained that her story was not to see 
the light, when there were no means of judging 
her character by her own writings, commenced 
a well-planned set of operations to turn the 
public attention once more to Lord Byron, and 
to represent him as an injured man, whose 
testimony had been unjustly suppressed. 

It was quite possible, supposing copies of the 
Autobiography to exist, that this might occa- 
sion a call from the generation of to-day, in 
answer to which the suppressed work might 
appear. This was a rather delicate operation to 
commence ; but the instrument was not want- 



ATTACK ON LADY BYRON'S GRAVE. 16/ 

ing. It was necessary that the subject should 
be first opened by some irresponsible party, 
whom more powerful parties might, as by 
accident, recognize and patronize, and on whose 
weakness they might build something stronger. 

Just such an instrument was to be found in 
Paris. The mistress of Lord Byron could easily 
be stirred up and flattered to come before the 
world with a book which should re-open the 
whole controversy ; and she proved a facile tool. 
At first, the work appeared prudently in French, 
and was called " Lord Byron juge par les Te- 
moins de sa Vie," and was rather a failure. Then 
it was translated into English, and published by- 
Bentley. 

The book was inartistic, and helplessly, child- 
ishly stupid as to any literary merits, — a mere 
mass of gossip and twaddle ; but after all, when 
one remembers the taste of the thousands of cir- 
culating-library readers, it must not be consid- 
ered the less likely to be widely read on that 
account. It is only once in a century that a 



1 68 ATTACK ON LADY BYRON's GRAVE. 

writer of real genius has the art to tell his story 
so as to take both the cultivated few and the 
average many. De Foe and John Bunyan are 
almost the only examples. But there is a certain 
class of reading that sells and spreads, and 
exerts a vast influence, which the upper circles 
of literature despise too much ever to fairly esti- 
mate its power. 

However, the Guiccioli book did not want 
for patrons in the high places of literature. The 
" Blackwood " — the old classic magazine of 
England ; the defender of conservatism and aris- 
tocracy ; the paper of Lockhart, Wilson, Hogg, 
Walter Scott, and a host of departed grandeurs 
— was deputed to usher into the world this 
book, and to recommend it and its author to the 
Christian public of the nineteenth century. 

The following is the manner in which " Black- 
wood " calls attention to it : — 

" One of the most beautiful of the songs of Beranger is that 
addressed to his Lisette, in which he pictures her, in old age, 
narrating to a younger generation the loves of their youth ; deck- 



ATTACK ON LADY BYRON S GRAVE. 1 69 

ing his portrait with flowers at each returning spring, and 
reciting the verses that had been inspired by her vanished 

charms : — 

' When youthful eyes your wrinkles shall explore 

To see what beauties once inspired my lays, 
Then will they say to thee, " Who was that friend 

So loved, so wept, so sung in ceaseless praise ? " 
Paint to their eyes, if possible, my love, 

Its ardors, Its deliriums, e'en its fears ; 
And, good old friend, beside thy peaceful fire 

Repeat the love-songs of my early years. 
" Ah ! " will they say, " was he so lovely, then ? " 

And thou without a blush shalt say, " / loved.''^ 
"Of wrong or evil was he guilty ever? " 
And thou with noble pride shalt answer, " Never ! " ' 

" This charming picture," " Blackwood " goes on to say, " has 
been reahzed in the case of a poet greater than Be'ranger, and 
by a mistress more famous than Lisette, The Countess Guiccioli 
has at length given to the world her ' Recollections of Lord 
Byron.' The book first appeared in France under the title of 
' Lord Byron juge' par les Temoins de sa Vie,' without the 
name of the countess. A more unfortunate designation could 
hardly have been selected. The ' witnesses of his life ' told 
us nothing but what had been told before over and over again ; 
and the uniform and exaggerated tone of eulogy which per- 
vaded the whole book was fatal to any claim on the part of the 
writer to be considered an impartial judge of the wonderfully 
mixed character of Byron. 



I/O ATTACK ON LADY BYRON S GRAVE. 

" When, hozuever, the book is regarded as the avowed fro- 
dicction of the Countess Guiecioli, it derives value and interest 
from its very faults* There is something inexpressibly 
touching in the picture of the old lady calling up the phan- 
toms of half a century ago ; not faded and stricken by the hand 
of time, but brilliant and gorgeous as they were when Byron, in 
his manly prime of genius and beauty, first flashed upon her 
enraptured sight, and she gave her whole soul up to an absorb- 
ing passion, the embers of which still glow in her heart. 

" To her there has been no change, no decay. The god 
whom she worshipped with all the ardor of her Italian nature 
at seventeen is still the * Pythian of the age ' to her at seventy. 
To try such a book by the ordinary canons of criticism would 
be as absurd as to arraign the authoress before a jury of I^ritish 
matrons, or to prefer a bill of indictment against the Sultan for 
bigamy to a Middlesex grand jury." 

This, then, is the introduction which one of 
the oldest and most classical periodicals of Great 
Britain gives to a very stupid book, simply be- 
cause it was written by Lord Byron's mistress. 
That fact, we are assured, lends grace even to 
its faults. 

Having brought the authoress upon the stage, 

* The Italics are mine. — H. B. S. 



ATTACK ON LADY BYRON S GRAVE. I71 

the review now goes on to define her position, 
and assure the Christian world that 

" The Countess Guiccioli was the daughter of an impover- 
ished noble. At the age of sixteen, she was taken from a con- 
vent, and sold as third wife to the Count Guiccioli, who was old, 
rich, and profligate. A fouler prostitution never profaned the 
name of marriage. A short time afterwards, she accidentally 
met Lord Byron. Outraged and rebellious nature vindicated 
itself in the deep and devoted passion with which he inspired 
her. With the full assent of husband, father, and brother, and 
in compliance with the usages of Italian society, he was shortly 
afterwards installed in the office, and invested with all the privi- 
leges, of her * Cavalier Servente.' " 

It has been asserted that the Marquis de 
Boissy, the late husband of this Guiccioli lady, 
was in the habit of introducing her in fashiona- 
ble circles as *'the Marquise de Boissy, my wife, 
formerly mistress to Lord Byron " ! We do not 
give the story as a verity ; yet, in the review 
of this whole history, we may be j^ardoned for 
thinking it quite possible. 

The mistress, being thus vouched for and pre- 
sented as worthy of sympathy and attention by 



1/2 ATTACK ON LADY BYRON S GRAVE. 

one of the oldest and most classic organs of 
English literature, may now proceed in her work 
of glorifying the popular idol, and casting abuse 
on the grave of the dead wife. 

Her attacks on Lady Byron are, to be sure, 
less skilful and adroit than those of Lord Byron. 
They want his literary polish and tact ; but what 
of that ? " Blackwood " assures us that even the 
faults of manner derive a peculiar grace from 
the fact that the narrator is Lord Byron's mis- 
tress ; and so we suppose the literary world must 
find grace in things like this : — 

" She has been called, after his words, the moral Clytemnes- 
tra of her husband. Such a surname is severe : but the repug- 
nance we feel to condemning a woman cannot prevent our lis- 
tening to the voice of justice, which tells us that the comparison 
is still in favor of the guilty one of antiquity ; for s/ie, driven 
to crime by fierce passion overpowering reason, at least only 
deprived her husband of physical life, and, in committing the 
deed, exposed herself to all its consequences ; while I>ady Byron 
left her husband at the very moment that she saw him struggling 
amid a thousand shoals in the stormy sea of embarrassments 
created by his marriage, and precisely when he more than 



ATTACK ON LADY BYRON's GRAVE. 1 73 

ever required a friendly, tender, and indulgent hand to save 
him. 

" Besides, she shut herself up in silence a thousand times more 
cruel than Clytemnestra's poniard : that only killed the body ; 
whereas Lady Byron's silence was destined to kill the soul, — 
and such a soul ! — leaving the door open to calumny, and making 
it to be supposed that her silence was magnanimity destined to 
cover over frightful wrongs, perhaps even depravity. In vain 
did he, feeling his conscience at ease, implore some inquiry and 
examination. She refused ; and the only favor she granted 
was to send him, one fine day, two persons to see whether he 
were not mad. 

" And why, then, had she believed him mad ? Because she, 
a methodical, inflexible woman, with that unbendingness which 
a profound moralist calls the worship rendered to pride by a 
feelingless soul, — because she could not understand the possi- 
bility of tastes and habits different to those of ordinary routine, 
or of her own starched life. Not to be hungry when she was ; 
not to sleep at night, but to write while she was sleeping, and 
to sleep when she was up ; in short, to gratify the require- 
ments of material and intellectual life at hours different to hers, 
— all that was not merely annoying for her, but it must be mad- 
ness ; or, if not, it betokened depravity that she could neither 
submit to nor tolerate without perilling her own morality. 

" Such was the grand secret of the cruel silence which ex- 
posed Lord Byron to the most malignant interpretations, to 
all the calumny and revenge of his enemies. 



174 ATTACK ON LADY BYRON S GRAVE. 

" She \vas, perhaps, the only woman in the world so strangely 
organized, — the only one, perhaps, capable of not feeling 
happy and proud at belonging to a man superior to the rest of 
humanity ; and fatally was it decreed that this woman alojie of 
her species should be Lord Byron's wife ! " 

In a note is added, — 

*' If an imaginary fear, and even an unreasonable jealousy, 
may be her excuse (just as one excuses a monomania), can one 
equally forgive her silence ? Such a silence is morally what are 
physically the poisons which kill at once, and defy all remedies ; 
thus insuring the culprit's safety. This silence it is which will 
ever be her crime ; for by it she poisoned the life of her hus- 
band." 

The book has several chapters devoted to 
Lord Byron's peculiar virtues ; and, under the 
one devoted to magnanimity and heroism^, his 
forgiving disjoosition receives special attention. 
The climax of all is stated to be that he forgave 
Lady Byron. All the world knew that, since he 
had declared this fact in a very noisy and impas- 
sioned manner in the fourth canto of "Childe 
Harold," together with a statement of the wrongs 



ATTACK ON LADY BYRON S GRAVE. 1 75 

which he forgave ; but the Guiccioh thinks his 
virtue, at this period, has not been enough appre- 
ciated. In her view, it rose to the subhme. She 
says of Lady Byron, — 

" An absolute moral monstrosity, an anomaly in the his- 
tory of types of female hideousness, had succeeded in show- 
ing itself in the light of magnanimity. But false as was this 
high quality in Lady Byron, so did it shine out in him true and 
admirable. The position in which Lady Byron had placed him, 
and where she continued to keep him by her harshness, silence, 
and strange refusals, was one of those Avhich cause such suffer- 
ing, that the highest degree of self-control seldom suffices to 
quiet the promptings of human weakness, and to cause persons 
of even slight sensibility to preserve moderation. Yet, with his 
sensibility and the knowledge of his worth, how did he act ? 
what did he say ? I will not speak of his ' Farewell ; ' of the 
care he took to shield her from blame by throwing it on others, 
by taking much too large a share to himself" 

• With hke vivacity and earnestness does the 
narrator now proceed to make an incarnate angel 
of lier subject by the simple process of denying 
every thing that he himself ever confessed, — 
every thing that has ever been confessed in regard 



1/6 ATTACK ON LADY BYRON's GRAVE. 

to him by his best friends. He has been in the 
world as an angel unawares from his cradle. His 
guardian did not properly appreciate him, and is 
consequently mentioned as that zvicked Lord Car- 
lisle. Thomas Moore is never to be sufficiently 
condemned for the facts told in his Biography. 
Byron's own frank and lawless admissions of 
evil are set down to a peculiar inability he 
had ibr speaking the truth about himself, — 
sometimes about his near relations ; all which 
does not in the least discourage the authoress 
from giving a separate chapter on " Lord Byron's 
Love of Truth." 

In the matter of his relations with women, she 
complacently repeats (what sounds rather oddly 
as coming from her) Lord Byron's own assur- 
ance, that he never seduced a woman ; and also 
the equally convincing statement, that he had told. 
her (the Guiccioli) that his married fidelity to his 
wife was perfect. She discusses Moore's account 
of the mistress in boy's clothes who used to 
share Byron's apartments in college, and ride 



ATTACK ON LADY BYRON S GRAVE. I// 

with him to races, and whom he presented to 
ladies as his brotlier. 

She has her own view of this matter. The 
disguised boy was- a lady of rank and fashion, 
who sought Lord Byron's chambers, as we are 
informed noble ladies everywhere, both in Italy 
and England, were constantly in the habit of 
doing ; throwing themselves at his feet, and im- 
ploring permission to become his handmaids. 
■ In the authoress's own words, " Feminine over- 
tures still continued to be made to Lord Byron ; 
but the fumes of incense never hid from his sight 
his IDEAL." We are told, that, in case of these 
poor ladies, generally " disenchantment took 
place on his side without a corresponding result 
on the other : thence many heart-breakings." 
Nevertheless, we are informed that there fol- 
lowed the indiscretions of these ladies " none of 
those proceedings that the world readily forgives, 
but which his feelings as a man of honor would 
have condemned." 

As to drunkenness, and all that, we are in- 



1/8 ATTACK ON LADY BYRON's GRAVE. 

formed he was an anchorite. Pages are given to 
an account of the biscuits and soda-water that 
on this and that occasion were found to be the 
sole means of sustenance to this ethereal crea- 
ture. 

As to the story of using his wife's money, the 
lady gives, directly in the face of his own Letters 
and Journal, the same account given before by 
Medwin, and which caused such merriment when 
talked over in the Noctes Club, — that he had 
with her only a marriage-portion of ;^ 10,000 ; 
and that, on the separation, he not only paid it 
back, but doubled it.* 

So on the authoress goes, sowing right and 
left the most transparent absurdities and mis- 
statements with what Carlyle well calls " a com- 

* In the Noctes of November, 1824, Christopher North says, "I don't 
call Medwin a liar. . . . Whether Byron bammed him, or he, by virtue 
of his own stupidity, was the sole and sufficient bamniifier of himself, I 
know not." A note says, that Murray had been much shocked by Byron's 
misstatements to Medwin as to money-matters with him. The note goes on 
to say, " Medwin could not have invented them, for they were mixed up 
with acknowledged facts ; and the presumption is, that Byron rnystified his 
gallant acquaintance. He was fond of such tricks." 



ATTACK ON LADY BYRON S GRAVE. 1 79 

posed Stupidity, and a cheerful infinitude of 
ignorance." Who should \lyio\y, if not she, to be 
sure ? Had not Byron told her all about it ? and 
was not his family motto Crede Byron ? 

The " Blackwood," having a dim suspicion that 
this confused style of attack and defence in 
reference to the two parties under consideration 
may not have great weight, itself proceeds to 
make the book an occasion for re-opening the 
controversy of Lord Byron with his wife. 

The rest of the review is devoted to a power- 
ful attack on Lady Byron's character, — the most 
fearful attack on the memory of a dead woman 
we have ever seen made by a living man. The 
author proceeds, like a lawyer, to gather up, 
arrange, and restate, in a most workmanlike 
manner, the confused accusations of the book. 

Anticipating the objection, that such a re- 
opening of the inquiry was a violation of the 
privacy due to womanhood and to the feelings 
of a surviving family, he says, that though mar- 
riage usually is a private matter which the 



l80 ATTACK ON LADY BYROn's GRAVE. 

world has no right to intermeddle with or dis- 
cuss, yet — 

" Lord Byron's was an exceptional case. It is not too much 
to say, that, had his marriage been a happy one, the course of 
events of the present century might have been materially 
changed ; that the genius which poured itself forth in ' Don 
Juan ' and ' Cain ' might have flowed in far different channels ; 
that the ardent love of freedom which sent him to perish at six 
and thirty at Missolonghi might have inspired a long career at 
home ; and that we might at this moment have been appealing 
to the counsels of his experience and wisdom at an age not 
exceeding that which was attained by Wellington, Lyndhurst, 
and Brougham. 

" Whether the world would have been a gainer or a loser by 
the exchange is a question which every man must answer for 
himself, according to his own tastes and opinions ; but the 
possibility of such a change in the course of events warrants 
us in treating what would otherwise be a strictly private matter 
as one of public interest. 

" More than half a century has elapsed, the actors have 
departed from the stage, the curtain has fallen ; and whether it 
will ever again be raised so as to reveal the real facts of the 
drama, may, as we have already observed, be well doubted. 
But the time has arrived when we may fairly gather up the 
fragments of evidence, clear them as far as possible from the 
incrustations of passion, prejudice, and malice, and place them 



ATTACK ON LADY BYRON S GRAVE. l8l 

in such order, as, if possible, to enable us to arrive at some 
probable conjecture as to what the skeleton of the drama 
originally was." 

Here the writer proceeds to put together all 
the facts of Lady Byron's case, just as an ad- 
verse lawyer would put them as against her, and 
for her husband. The plea is made vigorously 
and ably, and with an air of indignant severity, 
as of an honest advocate who is thoroughly 
convinced that he is pleading the cause of a 
wronged man who has been ruined in name, 
shipwrecked in life, and driven to an early grave, 
by the arts of a bad woman, — a woman all the 
more horrible that her malice was disguised 
under the cloak of religion. 

Having made an able statement of facts, 
adroitly leaving out one,* of which he could not 
have been ignorant had he studied the case care- 
fully enough to know all the others, he proceeds 
to sum up against the criminal thus : — 

* This one fact is, that Lord Byron might have had an open examination 
in court, if he had only persisted in refusing the deed of separation. 



1 82 ATTACK ON LADY BYRON's GRAVE. 

" We would deal tenderly with the memory of Lady Byron. 
Few women have been juster objects of compassion. It would 
seem as if Nature and Fortune had vied with each other which 
should be most lavish of her gifts, and yet that some malignant 
power had rendered all their bounty of no effect. Rank, 
beauty, wealth, and mental powers of no common order, were 
hers ; yet they were of no avail to secure her happiness. The 
spoilt child of seclusion, restraint, and parental idolatry, a fate 
(alike evil for both) cast her into the arms of the spoilt child 
of genius, passion, and the world. What real or fancied wrongs 
she suffered, we may never know ; but those which she inflicted 
are sufficiently apparent. 

" It is said that there are some poisons so subtle that they 
will destroy life, and yet leave no trace of their action. The 
murderer who uses them may escape the vengeance of the law ; 
but he is not the less guilty. So the slanderer who makes no 
charge ; who deals in hints and insinuations ; who knows 
melancholy facts he would not willingly divulge, — things too 
painful to state ; who forbears, expresses pity, sometimes even 
affection, for his victim, shrugs his shoulders, looks with 

'The significant eye, 
Which learns to lie with silence,' — 

is far more guilty than he who tells the bold falsehood which 
may be met and answered, and who braves the punishment 
which must follow upon detection. 



ATTACK ON LADY BYRON's GRAVE. 1 83 

** Lady Byron has been called 

' The moral Clytemnestra of her lord.* 

The ' moral Brinvilliers ' would have been a truer designation. 

" The conclusion at which we arrive is, that there is no 
proof whatever that Lord Byron was guilty of any act that 
need have caused a separation, or prevented a re-union, and 
that the imputations upon him rest on the vaguest conjecture ; 
that whatever real or fancied wrongs Lady Byron may have 
endured are shrouded in an impenetrable mist of her own 
creation, — a poisonous miasma in which she enveloped the 
character of her husband, — raised by her breath, and which 
her breath only could have dispersed. 

' She dies, and makes no sign. O God ! forgive her.' " 

As we have been obli2:ed to review accusa- 
tions on Lady Byron founded on old Greek 
tragedy, so now we are forced to abridge a 
passage from a modern conversations-lexicon, 
that we may understand what sort of compari- 
sons are deemed in good taste in a conservative 
English review, when speaking of ladies of rank 
in their graves. 

Under the article " Brinvilliers," we find as 
follows : — 



1 84 ATTACK ON LADY BYRON's GRAVE. 

"Marguerite d'Aubrai, Marchioness of Brinvilliers. 
— The singular atrocity of this woman gives her a sort of 
infamous claim to notice. She was born in Paris in 1651; being 
daughter of D'Aubrai, lieutenant-civil of Paris, who married 
her to the Marquis of Brinvilliers. Although possessed of 
attractions to captivate lovers, she was for some time much 
attached to her husband, but at length became madly in love 
with a Gascon officer. Her father imprisoned the officer in the 
Bastille ; and, while there, he learned the art of compounding 
subtle and most mortal poisons ; and, when he was released, he 
taught it to the lady, who exercised it with such success, that, in 
one year, her father, sister, and two brothers, became her victims. 
She professed the utmost tenderness for her victims, and nursed 
them assiduously. On her father she is said to have made 
eight attempts before she succeeded. She was very religious^ 
and devoted to works of charity ; and visited the hospitals a 
great deal, where it is said she tried her poisons on the sick." 

People have made loud outcries lately, both in 
America and England, about violating the repose 
of the dead. We should like to know what they 
call this. Is this, then, what they mean by 
respectijig the dead .-^ 

Let any man imagine a leading review coming 
out with language equally brutal about his own 
mother, or any dear and revered friend. 



ATTACK ON LADY BYRON's GRAVE. 1 85 



Men of America, men of England, what do 
you think of this ? 

When Lady Byron was pubUcly branded with 
the names of the foulest ancient and foulest 
modern assassins, and Lord Byron's mistress was 
publicly taken by the hand, and encouraged to 
go on and prosper in her slanders, by one of the 
oldest and most influential British reviews, what 
was said and what was done in England ? 

That is a question we should be glad to have 
answered. Nothing was done that ever reached 
us across the water. 

And why was nothing done ? Is this language 
of a kind to be passed over in silence } 

Was it no offence to the house of Wentworth 
to attack the pure character of its late venera- 
ble head, and to brand her in her sacred grave 
with the name of one of the vilest of criminals ? 

Might there not properly have been an indig- 
nant protest of family solicitors against this in- 
sult to the person and character of the Baroness 
Wentworth ? 



1 86 ATTACK ON LADY BYROn's GRAVE. 

If virtue went for nothing, benevolence for 
nothing, a long life of service to humanity for 
nothing, one would at least have thought, that, 
in aristocratic countries, rank might have had 
its rights to decent consideration, and its guar- 
dians to rebuke the violation of those risrhts. 

We Americans understand little of the advan- 
tages of rank ; but we did understand that it 
secured certain decorums to people, both while 
living and when in their graves. From Lady 
Byron's whole history, in life, and in death, it 
would appear that we were mistaken. 

What a life was hers ! Was ever a woman 
more evidently desirous of the delicate and se- 
cluded privileges of womanhood, of the sacred- 
ness of individual privacy ? Was ever a woman 
so rudely dragged forth, and exposed to the 
hafde;ied, vulgar, and unfeeling gaze of mere 
curiosity.'' — her maiden secrets of love thrown 
open to be handled by roites ; the sanctities of 
her marriage-chamber desecrated by leering 
satyrs ; her parents and best friends traduced 



ATTACK ON LADY BYRON's GRAVE. 1 8/ 

and slandered, till one indignant public protest 
was extorted from her, as by the rack, — a pro- 
test which seems yet to quiver in every word 
with the indignation of outraged womanly deli- 
cacy ! 

Then followed coarse blame and coarser com- 
ment, — blame for speaking at all, and blame for 
not speaking more. One manly voice, raised 
for her in honorable protest, was silenced and 
overborne by the universal roar of ridicule and 
reprobation ; and henceforth what refuge ? Only 
this remained : " Let them that suffer according 
to the will of God commit the keeping of their 
souls to him as to a faithful Creator." 

Lady Byron turned to this refuge in silence, 
and filled up her life with a noble record of 
charities and humanities. So pure was she, so 
childlike, so artless, so loving, that those who 
knew her best, feel, to this day, that a memorial 
of her is like the relic of a saint. And could 
not all this preserve her grave from insult ? O 
England, England ! 



1 88 ATTACK ON LADY BYRON S GRAVE. 

I speak in sorrow of heart to those who must 
have known, loved, and revered Lady Byron, 
and ask them, Of what were you thinkmg when 
you allowed a paper of so established literary 
rank as the " Blackwood " to present and 
earnestly recommend to our New World such 
a compendium of lies as the Guiccioli book ? 

Is the great English-speaking community, 
whose waves toss from Maine to California, 
and whose literature is yet to come back in 
a thousand voices to you, a thing to be so 
despised ? 

If, as the solicitors of the Wentworth family 
observe, you might be entitled to treat with si- 
lent contempt the slanders of a mistress against 
a wife, was it safe to treat with equal contempt 
the indorsement and recommendation of those 
slanders by one of your oldest and most power- 
ful literary" authorities ? 

No European magazine has ever had the 
weight and circulation in America that the 
" Blackwood " has held. In the days of my 



ATTACK ON LADY BYROn's GRAVE. 1 89 

youth, when New England was a comparatively 
secluded section of the earth, the wit and genius 
of the "Noctes Ambrosianae " were in the mouths 
of men and maidens, even in our most quiet 
mountain-towns. There, years ago, we saw all 
Lady Byron's private affairs discussed, and felt 
the weight of Christopher North's decisions 
against her. Shelton Mackenzie, in his Ameri- 
can edition, speaks of the American circulation 
of " Blackwood " being greater than that in 
England.* It was and is now reprinted 
monthly ; and, besides that, Littell's Magazine 
reproduces all its striking articles, and they 
come with the weight of long-established posi- 
tion. From the very fact that it has long 
been considered the Tory organ, and the sup- 
porter of aristocratic orders, all its admissions 

* In the history of " Blackwood's Magazine," prefaced to the American 
edition of 1854, Mackenzie says of the " Noctes " papers, " Great as was 
their popularity in England, it was peculiarly in America that their high 
merit and undoubted originality received the heartiest recognition and appre- 
ciation. Nor is this wonderful, when it is considered, that, for one reader of 
' Blackwood's Magazine ' in the old country, there cannot be less than fifty 
in the new." 



IQO ATTACK ON LADY BYRON S GRAVE. 

against the character of individuals in the privi- 
leged classes have a double force. 

When " Blackwood," therefore, boldly de- 
nounces a lady of high rank as a modern Brin- 
villicrs, and no sensation is produced, and no 
remonstrance follows, what can people in the 
New World suppose, but that Lady Byron's 
character was a point entirely given up ; that 
her depravity was so well established and so 
fully conceded, that nothing was to be said, 
and that even the defenders of aristocracy were 
forced to admit it ? 

I have been blamed for speaking on this sub- 
ject without consulting Lady Byron's friends, 
trustees, and family. More than ten years had 
elapsed since I had had any intercourse with 
England, and I knew none of them. How was 
I to know that any of them were living ? It 
was perfectly fair for me to conclude that they 
were not ; for, if they had been, they certainly 
must have taken some public steps to stop such 
a scandal. I was astonished to learn, for the 



ATTACK ON LADY BYRON S GRAVE. IQI 

first time, by the solicitors' letters, that there 
were trustees, who held in their hands all Lady 
Byron's carefully-prepared proofs and documents, 
by which this falsehood might immediately have 
been refuted. 

If they had spoken, they might have saved 
all this confusion. Even if bound by restric- 
tions for a certain period of time, they still 
might have called on a Christian public to 
frown down such a cruel and indecent attack on 
the character of a noble lady who had been a 
benefactress to so many in England. They 
might have stated that the means of wholly 
refuting the slanders of the " Blackwood " were 
in their hands, and only delayed in coming forth 
from regard to the feelings of some in this gen- 
eration. Then might they not have announced 
her Life and Letters, that the public might have 
the same opportunity as themselves for knowing 
and judging Lad'y Byron by her own writings ? 

Had this been done, I had been most happy 
to have remained silent. I have been aston- 



192 ATTACK ON LADY BYRON S GRAVE. 

ished that any one should have supposed this 
speaking on my part to be any thing less than 
it is, — the severest act of self-sacrifice that 
one friend can perform for another, and the 
most solemn and difficult tribute to justice that 
a human being can be called upon to render. 

I have been informed that the course I have 
taken would be contrary to the wishes of my 
friend. I think otherwise. I know her strong 
sense of justice, and her reverence for truth. 
Nothing ever moved her to speak to the public 
but an attack upon the honor of the dead. In 
her statement, she says of her parents, " There 
is no other near relative to vindicate their 
memory from insult : I am therefore compelled 
to break the silence I had hoped always to have 
observed." 

If there was any near relative to vindicate 
Lady Byron's memory, I had no evidence of 
the fact; and I considered the utter silence to 
be strong evidence to the contrary. In all the 
storm of obloquy and rebuke that has raged in 



ATTACK ON LADY BYRON S GRAVE. I 93 

consequence of my speaking, I have had two 
unspeakable sources of joy : first, that they 
could not touch her ; and, second, that they 
could not blind the all-seeing God. It is worth 
being in darkness to see the stars. 

It has been said that / have drawn on Lady 
Byron's name greater obloquy than ever before. 
I deny the charge. Nothing fouler has been 
asserted of hpr than the charges of the " Black- 
wood," because nothing fouler could be asserted. 
No satyr's hoof has ever crushed this pearl 
deeper in the mire than the hoof of the " Black- 
wood ; " but none of them have so defiled it or 
trodden it so deep that God cannot find it in 
the day " when he maketh up his jewels." 

I have another word, as an American, to say 
about the contempt shown to our great people 
in thus suffering the materials of history to be 
falsified to subserve the temporary purposes of 
family feeling in England. 

Lord Byron belongs not properly either to 
the Byrons or the Wentworths. He is not one 
13 



194 ATTACK ON LADY BYRON S GRAVE. 

of their family jewels, to be locked up in their 
cases. He belongs to the world for which he 
wrote, to which he appealed, and before which 
he dragged his reluctant, delicate wife to a 
publicity equal with his own : the world has, 
therefore, a right to judge him. 

We Americans have been made accessories, 
after the fact, to every insult and injury that 
Lord Byron and the literary men of his day have 
heaped upon Lady Byron. We have been 
betrayed into injustice, and a complicity with 
villany. After Lady Byron had nobly lived down 
slanders in England, and died full of years and 
honors, the " Blackwood " takes occasion to 
re-open the controversy by recommending a 
book full of slanders to a rising generation who 
knew nothing of the past. What was the con- 
sequence in America? My attention was first 
called to the result, not by reading the " Black- 
wood" article, but by finding in a popular 
monthly magazine two long articles, — the one 
an enthusiastic recommendation of the Guiccioli 



ATTACK ON LADY BYRON S GRAVE. 1 95 

book, and the other a lamentation over the 
burning of the Autobiography as a lost chapter 
in history. 

Both articles represented Lady Byron as a 
cold, malignant, mean, persecuting woman, who 
had been her husband's ruin. They were so full 
of falsehoods and misstatements as to astonish 
me. Not long after, a literary friend wrote to 
me, " Will you, can you, reconcile it to your 
conscience to sit still and allow that mistress so 
to slander that wife, — you, perhaps, the only 
one knowing the real facts, and able to set them 
forth .? " 

Upon this, I immediately began collecting 
and reading the various articles and the book, 
and perceived that the public of this generation 
were in a way of having false history created, 
uncontradicted, under their own eyes. 

I claim for my country men and women our 
right to true history. For years, the popular 
literature has held up publicly before our 
eyes the facts as to this man and this woman, 



196 ATTACK ON LADY BYRON's GRAVE. 

and called on us to praise or condemn. Let us 
have triitJi when we are called on to judge. It 
is our right. 

There is no conceivable obligation on a 
human being greater than that of absolute 
justice. It is the deepest personal injury to an 
honorable mind to be made, through misrepre- 
sentation, an accomplice in injustice. When a 
noble name is accused, any person who pos- 
sesses truth which might clear it, and withholds 
that truth, is guilty of a sin against human 
nature and the inalienable claims of justice. I 
claim that I have not only a right, but an obliga- 
tion, to bring in my solemn testimony upon this 
subject. 

For years and years, the silence-policy has 
been tried ; and what has it brought forth } As 
neither word nor deed could be proved against 
Lady Byron, her silence has been spoken of as a 
monstrous, unnatural crime, "a poisonous mi- 
asma," in which she enveloped the name of her 
husband. 



ATTACK ON LADY BYRON S GRAVE. 1 9/ 

Very well : since silence is the crime, I 
thought I would tell the world that Lady Byron 
had spoken. 

Christopher North, years ago, when he con- 
demned her for speaking, said that she should 
speak further, — 

" She should speak, or some one for her. One 
word would suffice." 

That one word I have spoken. 



PART II 



PART II. 



A 



CHAPTER I. 

LADY BYRON AS I KNEW HER. 

N editorial in " The London Times " of 
Sept. 1 8 says, — 



*' The perplexing feature in this ' True Story ' is, that it is 
impossible to distinguish what part in it is the editress's, and 
what Lady Byron's own. We are given the impression made on 
Mrs. Stowe's mind by Lady Byron's statements ; but it would 
have been more satisfactory if the statement itself had been 
reproduced as bare as possible, and been left to make its own 
impression on the public." 

In reply to this, I will say, that in my article I 
gave a brief synopsis of the subject-matter of 
Lady Byron's communications ; and I think it 
must be quite evident to the world that the main 



202 LADY BYRON AS I KNEW HER. 

fact on which the story turns was one which 
could not possibly be misunderstood, and the 
remembrance of which no lapse of time could 
ever weaken. 

Lady Byron's communications were made to 
me in language clear, precise, terrible ; and 
many of her phrases and sentences I could 
repeat at this day, word for word. But if I 
had reproduced them at first, as " The Times " 
suggests, word for word, the public horror and 
incredulity would have been doubled. It was 
necessary that the brutality of the story should, 
in some degree, be veiled and softened. 

The publication, by Lord Lindsay, of Lady 
Anne Barnard's communication, makes it now 
possible to tell fully, and in Lady Byron's own 
words, certain incidents that yet remain untold. 
To me who know the whole history, the revela- 
tions in Lady Anne's account, and the story re- 
lated by Lady Byron, are like fragments of a 
dissected map : they fit together, piece by piece, 
and form one connected whole. ' 



LADY BYRON AS I KNEW HER. 203 

In confirmation of the general facts of this 
interview, I have the testimony of a sister who 
accompanied me on this visit, and to whom, im- 
mediately after it, I recounted the story. 

Her testimony on the subject is as follows : — 

" My dear Sister, — I have a perfect recollection of going 
with you to visit Lady Byron at the time spoken of in your 
published article. We arrived at her house in the morning ; 
and, after lunch, Lady Byron and yourself spent the whole 
time till evening alone together. 

" After we retired to our apartment that night, you related 
to me the story given in your published account, though with 
many more particulars than you have yet thought fit to give to 
the public. 

" You stated to me that Lady Byron was strongly impressed 
with the idea that it might be her duty to publish a statement 
during her lifetime, and also the reasons which induced her to 
think so. You appeared at that time quite disposed to think 
that justice required this step, and asked my opinion. We 
passed most of the night in conversation on the subject, — a 
conversation often resumed, from time to time, during several 
weeks in which you were considering what opinion to give. 

" I was strongly of opinion that*justice required the publica- 
tion of the truth, but felt exceedingly averse to its being done 
by Lady Byron herself during her own lifetime, when she 



204 LADY BYRON AS I KNEW HER. 

personally would be subject to the comments and misconcep- 
tions of motives which would certainly follow such a communi- 
cation. " Your sister, 

" M. F. Perkins." 

I am now about to complete the account of 
my conversation with Lady Byron ; but as the 
credibility of a history depends greatly on the 
character of its narrator, and as especial pains 
have been taken to destroy the belief in this 
story by representing it to be the wanderings of 
a broken-down mind in a state of dotage and 
mental hallucination, I shall preface the narra- 
tive with some account of Lady Byron as she 
was during the time of our mutual acquaintance 
and friendship. 

This account may, perhaps, be deemed super- 
fluous in England, where so many knew her ; but 
in America, where, from Maine to California, 
her character has been discussed and traduced, 
it is of importance to give interested thousands 
an opportunity of learning what kind of a wo- 
man Lady Byron was. 



LADY BYRON AS I KNEW HER. 205 

Her character as given by Lord Byron in 
his Journal, after her first refusal of him, is 
this : — 

" She is a very superior woman, and very little spoiled ; 
which is strange in an heiress, a girl of twenty, a peeress 
that is to be in her own right, an only child, and a savante, who 
has always had her own way. She is a poetess, a mathemati- 
cian, a metaphysician ; yet, withal, very kind, generous, and 
gentle, with very little pretension. Any other head would be 
turned with half her acquisitions and a tenth of her advan- 
tages." 

Such was Lady Byron at twenty. I formed 
her acquaintance in the year 1853, during my 
first visit in England. I met her at a lunch- 
party in the house of one of her friends. 

The party had many notables ; but, among 
them all, my attention was fixed principally on 
Lady Byron. She was at this time sixty-one 
years of age, but still had, to a remarkable de- 
gree, that personal attraction which is commonly 
considered to belong only to youth and beauty. 

Her form was slight, giving an impression of 



206 LADY BYRON AS I KNEW HER. 

fragility ; her motions were both graceful and de- 
cided ; her eyes bright, and full of interest and 
quick observation. Her silvery-white hair seemed 
to lend a grace to the transparent purity of her 
complexion, and her small hands had a pearly 
whiteness. I recollect she wore a plain widow's 
cap of a transparent material ; and was dressed 
in some delicate shade of lavender, which har- 
monized well with her complexion. 

When I was introduced to her, I felt in a mo- 
ment the words of her husband : — 

" There was awe in the homage that she drew ; 
Her spirit seemed as seated on a throne." 

Calm, self-poised, and thoughtful, she seemed to 
me rather *to resemble an interested spectator of 
the world's affairs, than an actor involved in its 
trials ; yet the sweetness of her smile, and a 
certain very delicate sense of humor in her 
remarks, made the way of acquaintance easy. 

Her first remarks were a little playful ; but in 
a few moments we were speaking on what every 



LADY BYRON AS I KNEW HER. 20/ 

one in those days was talking to me about, — the 
slavery question in America. 

It need not be remarked, that, when any one 
subject especially occupies the public mind, those 
known to be interested in it are compelled to 
listen to many weary platitudes. Lady Byron's 
remarks, however, caught my ear and arrested 
my attention by their peculiar incisive quality, 
their originality, and the evidence they gave that 
she was as well informed on all our matters as 
the best American statesman could be. I had 
no wearisome course to go over with her as to 
the difference between the General Government 
and State Governments, nor explanations of the 
United-States Constitution ; for she had the whole 
before her mind with a perfect clearness. Her 
morality upon the slavery question, too, im- 
pressed me as something far higher and deeper 
than the common sentimentalism of the day. 
Many of her words surprised me greatly, and 
gave me new material for thought. 

I found I was in company with a commanding 



208 LADY BYRON AS I KNEW HER. 

mind, and hastened to gain instruction from her 
on another point where my interest had been 
aroused. I had recently been much excited by 
Kingsley's novels, "Alton Locke" and "Yeast," 
on the position of the religious thought in 
England. From these works I had gathered, 
that under the apparent placid uniformity of the 
Established Church of England, and of " good so- 
ciety " as founded on it, there was moving a secret 
current of speculative inquiry, doubt, and dissent ; 
but I had met, as yet, with no person among my 
various acquaintances in England who seemed 
either aware of this fact, or able to guide my 
mind respecting it. The moment I mentioned 
the subject to Lady Byron, I received an answer 
which showed me that the whole ground was fa- 
miliar to her, and that she was capable of giving 
me full information. She had studied with care- 
ful thoughtfulness all the social and religious 
tendencies of England during her generation. 
One of her remarks has often since occurred to 
me. Speaking of the Oxford movement, she 



LADY BYRON AS I KNEW HER. 2O9 

said the time had come when the EngHsh Church 
could no longer remain a§ it was. It must either 
restore the past, or create a future. The Oxford 
movement attempted the former ; and of the 
future she was beginning to speak, when our 
conversation was interrupted by the presenta- 
tion of other parties. 

Subsequently, in reply to a note from her on 
some benevolent business, I alluded to that con- 
versation, and expressed a wish that she would 
finish giving me her views of the religious state 
of England. A portion of the letter that she 
wrote me in reply I insert, as being very charac- 
teristic in many respects : — 

" Various causes have been assigned for the decaying state 
of the English Church ; which seems the more strange, because 
the clergy have improved, morally and intellectually, in the last 
twenty years. Then why should their influence be diminished .? 
I think it is owing to the diffusion of a spirit of free inquiry. 

" Doubts have arisen in the minds of many who are unhap- 
pily bound by subscription not to doubt ; and, in consequence, 
they are habitually pretendijtg either to believe or to disbelieve. 
The state of Denmark cannot but be rotten, when to seem is the 

first object of the witnesses of truth. 
14 



2IO LADY BYRON AS I KNEW HER. 

" They may lead better lives, and bring forward abler argu- 
ments ; but their efforts are paralyzed by that unsoundness. I 
see the High Churchman professing to believe in the existence 
of a church, when the most palpable facts must show him that 
no such church exists; the 'Low' Churchman professing to 
believe in exceptional interpositions which his philosophy 
secretly questions ; the * Broad ' Churchman professing as 
absolute an attachment to the Established Church as the nar- 
rowest could feel, while he is preaching such principles as will 
at last pull it down. 

" I ask you, my friend, whether there would not be more 
faith, as well as earnestness, if all would speak out. There 
would be more unanimity too, because they would all agree in 
a certain basis. Would not a wider love supersede the creed- 
bound charity of sects ? 

" I am av/are that I have touched on a point of difference 
between us, and I will not regret it ; for I think the differences 
of mind are analogous to those differences of nature, which, in 
the most comprehensive survey, are the very elements of har- 
mony. 

" I am not at all prone to put forth my own opinions ; but 
the tone in which you have written to me claims an unusual 
degree of openness on my part. I look upon creeds of all kinds 
as chains, — far worse chains than those you would break, — 
as the causes of much hypocrisy and infidelity. I hold it to be a 
sin to make a child say, ^ I believe.'' Lead it to utter that belief 
spontaneously. I also consider the institution of an exclusive 



LADY BYRON AS I KNEW HER. 211 

priesthood, though having been of service in some respects, as 
retarding the progress of Christianity at present. I desire to 
see a lay ministry. 

" I will not give you more of my heterodoxy at present : 
perhaps I need your pardon, connected as you are v^^ith the 
Church, for having said so much. 

" There are causes of decay known to be at work in my frame, 
which lead me to believe I may not have time to grow wiser ; 
and I must therefore leave it to others to correct the conclusions 
I have now formed from my life's experience. I should feel 
happy to discuss them personally with you ; for it would be soul 
to soul. In that confidence I am yours most truly, 

"A. I. Noel Byron." 

It is not necessary to prove to the reader 
that this letter is not in the style of a broken- 
down old woman subject to mental hallucinations. 
It shows Lady Byron's habits of clear, searching 
analysis, her thoughtfulness, and, above all, 
that peculiar reverence for tinith and sincerity 
which was a leading characteristic of her 
moral nature.* It also shows her views of the 

* The reader is here referred to Lady Byron's other letters, printed in 
Part in. ; which also show the peculiarly active and philosophical char- 
acter of her mind, and the class of subjects on which it habitually dwelt. 



212 LADY BYRON AS I KNEW HER. 

probable shortness of her stay on earth, derived 
from the opinion of physicians about her disease, 
which was a gradual ossification of the lungs. 
It has been asserted that pulmonary diseases, 
while they slowly and surely sap the physical 
life, often appear to give added vigor to the 
play of the moral and intellectual powers. 

I parted from Lady Byron, feeling richer in 
that I had found one more pearl of great price 
on the shore of life. 

Three years after this, I visited England to 
obtain a copyright for the issue of my novel of 
'' Dred." 

The hope of once more seeing Lady Byron 
was one of the brightest anticipations held out 
to me in this journey. I found London quite 
deserted ; but, hearing that Lady Byron was 
still in town, I sent to her, saying in my note, 
that, in case she was not well enough to call, I 
would visit her. Her reply I give : — 

" My dear Friend, — I will be indebted to you for our 
meeting, as I am barely able to leave my room, ft is not a time 



LADY BYRON AS I KNEW HER. 213 

for small personalities, if they could ever exist with yoii ; and, 
dressed or undressed, I shall hope to see you after two o'clock. 
" Yours very truly, 

"A. I. Noel Byron." 

I found Lady Byron in her sick-room, — 
that place which she made so different from 
the chamber of ordinary invahds. Her sicli- 
room seemed only a telegraphic station whence 
her vivid mind was flashing out all over the 
world. 

By her bedside stood a table covered with books, 
pamphlets, and files of letters, all arranged with 
exquisite order, and each expressing some of her 
varied interests. From that sick-bed she still 
directed, with systematic care, her various works 
of benevolence, and watched with intelligent 
attention the course of science, literature, and 
religion ; and the versatihty and activity of her 
mind, the flow of brilliant and penetrating 
thought on all the topics of the day, gave to the 
conversations of her retired room a peculiar 
charm. You forgot that she was an invalid ; for 



214 LADY BYRON AS I KNEW HER. 

she rarely had a word of her own personalities, 
and the charm of her conversation carried you 
invariably from herself to the subjects of which 
she was thinking. All the new books, the litera- 
ture of the hour, were lighted up by her keen, 
searching, yet always kindly criticism ; and it 
was charming to get her fresh, genuine, clear-cut 
modes of expression, so different from the world- 
worn phrases of what is called good society. 
Her opinions were always perfectly clear and 
positive, and given with the freedom of one who 
has long stood in a position to judge the world 
and its ways from her own standpoint. But it 
was not merely in general literature and science 
that her heart lay : it was following always with 
eager interest the progress of humanity over the 
whole world. 

This was the period of the great battle for 
liberty in Kansas. The English papers were 
daily filled with the thrilling particulars of that 
desperate struggle, and Lady Byron entered 
with heart and soul into it. 



LADY BYRON AS I KNEW HER. 2T5 

Her first letter to me, at this time, is on this 
subject. It was while " Dred " was going 
through the press. 

"Cambridge Terrace, Aug. 15. 

" My dear Mrs, Stowe, — Messrs. Chambers liked the 
proposal to publish the Kansas Letters. The more the public 
know of these matters, the better prepared they will be for your 
book. The moment for its publication seems well chosen. 
There is always in England a floating fund of sympathy for 
what is above the every-day sordid cares of life ; and these bet- 
ter feelings, so nobly invested for the last two years in Florence 
Nightingale's career, are just set free. To what will they next 
be attached .-' If you can lay hold of them, they may bring 
about a deeper abolition than any legislative one, — the abolition 
of the heart-heresy that man's worth comes, not from God, but 
from man. 

"I have been obliged to give up exertion again, but hope 
soon to be able to call and make the acquaintance of your 
daughters. In case you wish to consult H. Martineau's pam- 
phlets, I send more copies. Do not think of answ^ering : I have 
occupied too much of your time in reading. 

" Yours affectionately, " A. I. Noel Byron." 

As soon as a copy of " Dred " was through 
the press, I sent it to her, saying that I had been 



2l6 LADY BYRON AS I KNEW HER. 

reproved by some excellent people for repre- 
senting too faithfully the profane language of 
some of the wicked characters. To this she 
sent the following reply : — 

" Your book, dear Mrs. Stowe, is of the little leaven kind, 
and must prove a great moral force ; perhaps not manifestly so 
much as secretly. And yet I can hardly conceive so much power 
without immediate and sensible effects : only there will be a 
strong disposition to resist on the part of all hollow-hearted 
professors of religion, whose heathenisms you so unsparingly 
expose. They have a class feeling like others. 

" To the young, and to those who do not reflect much on what 
is offered to their belief, you will do great good by showing how 
spiritual food is often adulterated. The bread from heaven is in 
the same case as baker's bread. 

" If there is truth in what I heard Lord Byron say, that works 
of fiction live only by the amount of U-iith which they contain, 
your story is sure of a long life. Of the few critiques I have 
seen, the best is in ' The Examiner.' I find an obtuseness as to 
the spirit and aim of the book, as if you had designed to make 
the best novel of the season, or to keep up the reputation of one. 
You are reproached, as Walter Scott was, with too much scrip- 
tural quotation ; not, that I have heard, with phrases of an 
opposite character. 

" The effects of such reading till a late hour one evening 



LADY BYRON AS I KNEW HER. 21/ 

appeared to influence me very singularly in a dream. The most 
horrible spectres presented themselves, and I woke in an agony 
of fear ; but a faith still stronger arose, and I became coura- 
geous from trust in God, and felt calm. Did you do this ? It is 
very insignificant among the many things you certainly will do 
unknown to yourself. I know more than ever before how to 
value communion with you. I have sent Robertson's Sermons 
for you ; and, with kind regards to your family, am 

"Yours affectionately, "A. I. Noel Byron." 

I was Struck in this note with the mention 
of Lord Byron, and, the next time I saw her, 
alluded to it, and remarked upon the pecu- 
liar qualities of his mind as shown in some 
of his more serious conversations with Dr. 
Kennedy. • 

She seemed pleased to continue the subject, 
and went on to say many things of his singular 
character and genius, more penetrating" and 
more appreciative than is often met with among 
critics. 

I told her that I had been from childhood 
powerfully influenced by him ; and began to tell 
her how much, as a child, I had been affected 



2l8 LADY BYRON AS I KNEW HER. 

by the news of his death, — giving up all my 
plays, and going off to a lonely hillside, where I 
spent the afternoon thinking of him. She 
interrupted me, before I had quite finished, with 
a quick, impulsive movement. " I know all that," 

she said : " I heard it all from Mrs. ; and it 

was one of the things that made me wish to 
know yovi. I think j/<7// could understand him." 
We talked for some time of him then ; she, with 
her pale face slightly flushed, speaking, as any 
other great man's widow might, only of what 
was purest and best in his works, and what 
were his undeniable virtues and good traits, 
especially in early life. She told me many pleas- 
ant little speeches made by him to herself ; and, 
though there . was running through all this a 
shade of melancholy, one could never have con- 
jectured that there were under all any deeper 
recollections than the circumstances of an ordi- 
nary separation might bring. 

Not many days after, with the unselfishness 
which was so marked a trait with her, she chose 



LADY BYRON AS I KNEW HER. 2ig 

a day when she could be out of her room, and 
invited our family party, consisting of my hus- 
band, sister, and children, to lunch with her. 

What showed itself especially in this inter- 
view was her tenderness for all young people. 
She had often inquired after mine ; asked about 
their characters, habits, and tastes ; and on this 
occasion she found an opportunity to talk with 
each one separately, and to make them all feel 
at ease, so that they were able to talk with her. 
She seemed interested to paint out to them what 
they should see and study in London ; and the 
charm of her conversation left on their minds an 
impression that subsequent years have never 
effaced. I record this incident, because it shows 
how little Lady Byron assumed the privileges 
or had the character of an invalid absorbed in 
herself, and likely to brood over her own woes 
and wrongs. 

Here was a family of strangers stranded in a 
dull season in London, and there was no manner 
of obligation upon her to exert herself to show 



220 LADY BYRON AS I KNEW HER. 

them attention. Her state of health would have 
been an all-sufficient reason why she should not 
do it ; and her doing it was simply a specimen 
of that unselfish care for others, even down to 
the least detail, of which her life was full. 

A little while after, at her request, I went, 
with my husband and son, to pass an evening at 
her house. 

There were a few persons present whom she 
thought I should be interested to know, — a 
Miss Goldsmith, daughter of Baron Goldsmith, 
and Lord Ockham, her grandson, eldest son and 
heir of the Earl of Lovelace, to whom she in- 
troduced my son. 

I had heard much of the eccentricities of this 
young nobleman, and was exceedingly struck 
with his personal appearance. His bodily frame 
was of the order of the Farnese Hercules, — a 
wonderful development of physical and muscu- 
lar strength. His hands were those of a black- 
smith. He was broadly and squarely made, 
with a finely-shaped head, and dark eyes of 



LADY BYRON AS I KNEW HER. 221 

surpassing brilliancy, I have seldom seen a 
more interesting combination than his whole 
appearance presented. 

When all were engaged in talking, Lady Byron 
came and sat down by me, and glancing across 
to Lord Ockham and my son, who were talking 
together, she looked at ,me, and smiled. I 
immediately expressed my admiration of his fine 
eyes and the intellectual expression of his coun- 
tenance, and my wonder at the uncommon mus- 
cular development of his frame. 

She said that tJiat of itself would account for 
many of Ockham's eccentricities. He had a 
body that required a more vigorous animal life 
than his station gave scope for, and this had 
often led him to seek it in what the world calls 
low society ; that jie had been to sea as a sailor, 
and was now working as a mechanic on the iron 
work of " The Great Eastern." He had laid 
aside his title, and went in daily with the other 
workmen, requesting them to call him simply 
Ockham, 



222 LADY BYRON AS I KNEW HER. 

I said that there was something to my mind 
very fine about this, even though it might show 
some want of proper balance. 

She said he had noble traits, and that she felt 
assured- he would yet accomplish something 
worthy of himself " The great difficulty with 
our nobility is apt to be, that they do not 
understand the working-classes, so as to feel 
for them properly ; and Ockham is now going 
through an experience which may yet fit him to 
do great good when he comes to the peerage. 
I am trying to influence him to do good among 
the workmen, and to interest himself in schools 
for their children. I think," she added, *' I have 
great influence over Ockham, — the greater, per- 
haps, that I never make any claim to authority." 

This conversation is very ^characteristic of 
Lady Byron, as showing her benevolent analysis 
of character, and the peculiar hopefulness she 
always had in regard to the future of every one 
brought in connection with her. Her moral 
hopefulness was something very singular ; and in 



LADY BYRON AS 1 KNEW HER. 223 

this respect she was so different from the rest 
of the world, that it would be difficult to make 
her understood. Her tolerance of wrong-doing 
would have seemed to many quite latitudinarian, 
and impressed them as if she had lost all just 
horror of what was morally wrong in transgres- 
sion ; but it seemed her fixed habit to see faults 
only'^as diseases and immaturities, and to expect 
them to fall away with time. 

She saw the germs of good in what others 
regarded as only evil. She expected valuable 
results to come from what the world looked on 
only as eccentricities ; * and she incessantly de- 
voted herself to the task of guarding those whom 
the world condemned, and guiding them to 
those higher results of which she often thought 
that even their faults were prophetic. 

Before I quit this sketch of Lady Byron as I 
knew her, I will give one more of her letters. 
My return from that visit in Europe was met by 
the sudden death of the son mentioned in the 

* See her character of Dr. King, Part III., p. 469. 



224 LADY BYRON AS I KNEW HER. 

foregoing account. At the time of this sorrow, 
Lady Byron was too unwell to write to me. 
The letter given alludes to this event, and 
speaks also of two colored persons of remarka- 
ble talent, in whose career in England she had 
taken a deep interest. One of them is the 
" friend " she speaks of 

"London, Feb. 6, 1859. 

" Dear Mrs. Stovve, — I seem to feel our friend as a 
bridge, over which our broken outward communication can be 
renewed without effort. Why broken ? The words I would 
have uttered at one time were like drops of blood from my 
heart. Now I sympathize with the calmness you have gained, 
and can speak of your loss as I do of my own. Loss and resto- 
ration are more and more linked in my mind, but * to the pres- 
ent live.' As long as they are in God's world, they are in ours. 
I ask no other consolation. 

" Mrs. W 's recovery has astonished me, and her hus- 
band's prospects give me great satisfaction. They have achieved 
a benefit to their colored people. She had a mission which her 
burning soul has worked out, almost in defiance of death. But 
who is ' called ' without being ' crucified,' man or woman ? I 
know of none. 

" I fear that H. Martineau was too sanguine in her persuasion 
that the slave-power had received a serious check from the ruin 



LADY BYRON AS I KNEW HER. 22$ 

of so many of your Mammon-worshippers. With the return 
of commercial facilities, that article of commerce will again 
find purchasers enough to raise its value. Not that way is the 
iniquity to be overthrown. A deeper moral earthquake is 
needed.* We English had ours in India ; and though the 
cases are far from being alike, yet a consciousness of what we 
ought to have been and ought to be toward the natives could 
not have been awakened by less than the reddened waters of 
the Ganges. So I fear you will have to look on a day of judg- 
ment worse than has been painted. 

" As to all the frauds and impositions which have been dis- 
closed by the failures, what a want of the sense of personal 
responsibility they show. It seems to be thought that 'asso- 
ciation ' will ' cover a multitude of sins ; ' as if ' and Co.' could 
enter heaven. A firm may be described as a partnership 
for lowering the standard of morals. Even ecclesiastical bodies 
are not free from the 'and Co. ;' very different from ' the goodly 
fellowship of the apostles.' 

" The better class of young gentlemen in England are seized 
with a mediaeval mania, to which Ruskin has contributed much. 
The chief reason for regretting it is that taste is made to super- 
sede benevolence. The money that would save thousands from 
perishing or suffering must be applied to raise the Gothic edifice 
where their last prayer may be uttered. Charity may be dead, 
while Art has glorified her. This is worse than Catholicism, 

* Alluding to the financial crisis in the United States in 1857, 
15 



226 LADY BYRON AS I KNEW HER. 

which cultivates heart and eye together. The first cathedral 
was Truth, at the beginning of the fourth century, just as 
Christianity was exchanging a heavenly for an earthly crown. 
True religion may have to cast away the symbol for the spirit 
before ' the kingdom ' can come. 

" While I am speculating to little purpose, perhaps you are 
doing — what? Might not a biography from your pen bring 
forth again some great, half-obscured soul to act on the world ? 
Even Sir Philip Sidney ought to be superseded by a still nobler 
type. 

*' This must go immediately, to be in time for the bearer, of 
whose meeting with you I shall think as the friend of both. 
May it be happy ! 

" Your affectionate " A. I. N. B." 

One letter more from Lady Byron I give, — 
the last I received from her : — 

" London, May 3, 1859. 

" Dear Friend, — I have found, particularly as to your- 
self, that, if I did not answer from tlie first impulse, all had 
evaporated. Your letter came by ' The Niagara,' which brought 
Fanny Kemble to learn the loss of her best friend, the Miss 
F whom you saw at my house. 

" Her death, after an illness in which she was to the last a 
minister of good to others, is a soul-loss to me also ; and your 
remarks are most appropriate to my feelings. I have been 



LADY BYRON AS I KNEW HER. 22/ 

taught, however, to accept survivorship ; even to feel it, in some 
cases, Heaven's best blessing. 

" I have an intense interest in your new novel.* More 
power in these few numbers than in any of your former writ- 
ings, relating, at least, to my own mind. It would amuse you 
to hear my grand-daughter and myself attempting to foresee the 
future of the love-story ; being, for the moment, quite persuaded 
that James is at sea, and the minister about to ruin himself 
We think that Mary will labor to be in love with the self-devot- 
ed man, under her mother's influence, and from that hyper- 
conscientiousness so common with good girls ; but we don't 
wish her to succeed. Then what is to become of her older 
lover ? Time will show. 

" The lady you desired to introduce to me will be welcomed 
as of you. She has been misled with respect to my having 
any house in Yorkshire (New Leeds). I am in London now 

to be of a little use to A ; not ostensibly, for I can neither 

go out, nor give parties : but I am the confidential friend to 
whom she likes to bring her social gatherings, as she can see 
something of the world with others. Age and infirmity seem 
to be overlooked in what she calls the harmony between us, — 
not perfect agreement of opinion (which I should regret, with 
almost fifty years of difference), but the spirit-union; can you 
say what it is ? 

" I am interrupted by a note from Mrs.- K . She says 

* The Minister's Wooing, in the Atlantic Monthly. 



228 LADY BYRON AS I KNEW HER. 

that she cannot write of our lost friend yet, though she is less 

sad than she will be. Mrs. F may like to hear of her 

arrival, should you be in communication with our friend. She 
is the type of youth in age. 

•' I often converse with Miss S , a judicious friend of the 

W s, about what is likely to await them. She would not 

succeed here as well as where she was a novelty. The charac- 
ter of our climate this year has been injurious to the respiratory 
organs ; but I hope still to serve them. 

" I have just missed Dale Owen, with whom I wished to 
have conversed on spiritualism.* Harris is lecturing here on 
religion. I do not hear him praised. 

" People are looking for helps to believe, everywhere but in 
life, — in music, in architecture, in antiquity, in ceremony ; 
and upon all these is written, ' Thou shalt not believe.' At 
least, if this be faith, happier the unbeliever. I am willing to 
see through that materialism ; but, if I am to rest there, I would 
rend the veil. 

"June i. 
" The day of the packet's sailing. I shall hope to be visited 
by you here. The best flowers sent me have, been placed in 
your little vases, giving life to the remembrance of you, though 
not, like them, to pass away. 

'* Ever yours, " A. I. Noel Byron." 

* See her letter on spiritualistic phenomena, Part III. 



LADY BYRON AS I KNEW HER. 229 

Shortly after, I was in England again, and had 
one more opportunity of resuming our personal 
intercourse. The first time that I called on Lady 
Byron, I saw her in one of those periods of utter 
physical exhaustion to which she was subject on 
account of the constant pressure of cares beyond 
her strength. All who knew her will testify, 
that, in a state of health which would lead most 
persons to become helpless absorbents of ser- 
vice from others, she was assuming burdens, 
and making outlays of her vital powers in acts 
of love and service, with a generosity that often 
reduced her to utter exhaustion. But none who 
knew or loved her ever misinterpreted the cold- 
ness of those seasons of exhaustion. We knew 
that it was not the spirit that was chilled,, but 
only the frail mortal -tabernacle. When I 
called on her at this time, she could not see 
me at first ; and when, at last, she came, it 
was evident that she was in a state of utter 
prostration. Her hands were like ice ; her face 
was deadly pale ; and she conversed with a 



230 LADY BYRON AS I KNEW HER. 

restraint and difficulty which showed what ex- 
ertion it was for her to keep up at all. I left as 
soon as possible, with an appointment for another 
interview. That interview was my last on earth 
with her, and is still beautiful in memory. It 
was a long, still summer afternoon, spent alone 
with her in a garden, where we walked together. 
She was enjoying one of those bright intervals 
of freedom from pain and languor, in which her 
spirits always rose so buoyant and youthful ; and 
her eye brightened, and her step became elastic. 

One last little incident is cherished as most 
expressive of her. When it became time for me 
to leave, she took me in her carriage to the 
station. As we were almost there, I missed my 
gloves, and said, " I must have left them ; but 
there is not time to go back." 

With one of those quick, impulsive motions 
which were so natural to her in doing a kind- 
ness, she drew off her own, and said, " Take 
mine if they will serve you." 



LADY BYRON AS I KNEW HER. 23 1 

I hesitated a moment ; and then the thought, 
that I might never see her again, came over me, 
and I said, " Oh, yes ! thanks." That was the 
last earthly word of love between us. But, 
thank God, those who love worthily never meet 
for the last time : there is always a future. 



CHAPTER II. 

LADY BYROn's STORY AS TOLD ME. 

T NOW come to the particulars of that most 
painful interview which has been the cause 
of all this controversy. My sister and myself 
were going from London to Eversley to visit the 
Rev. C. Kingsley. On our way, we stopped, by 
Lady Byron's invitation, to • lunch with her at 
her summer residence on Ham Common, near 
Richmond ; and it was then arranged, that on 
our return, we should make her a short visit, as 
she said she had a subject of importance on 
which she wished to converse with me alone. 

On our return from Eversley, we arrived at 
her house in the morning. 

It appeared to be one of Lady Byron's well 
days. She was up and dressed, and moved 



LADY BYRON S STORY AS TOLD ME. 233 

about her house with her usual air of quiet sim- 
pHcity ; as full of little acts of consideration for 
all about her as if they were the habitual inva- 
lids, and she the well person. 

There were with her two ladies of her most 
intimate friends, by whom she seemed to be re- 
garded with a sort of worship. When she left 
the room for a moment, they looked after her 
with a singular expression of respect and affec- 
tion, and expressed freely their admiration of her 
character, and their fears that her unselfishness 
might be leading her to over-exertion. 

After lunch, I retired with Lady Byron ; and 
my sister remained with her friends. I should 
here remark, that the chief subject of the con- 
versation which ensued was not entirely new to 
me. In the interval between my first and second 
visits to England, a lady who for many years had 
enjoyed Lady Byron's friendship and confidence, 
had, with her consent, stated the case generally 
to me, giving some of the incidents : so that I 
was in a manner prepared for what followed. 



234 LADY BYRON S STORY AS TOLD- ME. 

Those who accuse Lady Byron of being a per- 
son fond of talkuig upon this subject, and apt to 
make unconsidered confidences, can have known 
very little of her, of her reserve, and of the 
apparent difficulty she had in speaking on sub- 
jects nearest her heart. 

Her habitual calmness and composure of man- 
ner, her collected dignity on all occasions, are 
often mentioned by her husband, sometimes with 
bitterness, sometimes with admiration. He says, 
" Though I accuse Lady Byron of an excess of 
self-respect, I must in candor admit, that, if ever 
a person had excuse for an extraordinary portion 
of it, she has ; as, in all her thoughts, words, and 
deeds, she is the most decorous woman that ever 
existed, and must appear, what few I fancy could, 
a perfectly refined gentlewoman even to her 
fennne de chambre." 

This calmness and dignity were never more 
manifested than in this interview. In recalling 
the conversation at this distance of time, I can- 
not remember all the language used. Some 



LADY BYRON S STORY AS TOLD ME. 235 

particular words and forms of expression I do 
remember, and those I give ; and in other cases 
I give my recollection of the substance of what 
was said. 

There was something awful to me in the in- 
tensity of repressed emotion which she showed 
as she proceeded. The great fact upon which 
all turned was stated in words that were unmis- 
takable : — 

" Mrs. Stowe, he was guilty of incest with his 
sister ! " 

She here became so deathly pale, that I 
feared she would faint ; and hastened to say, 
" My dear friend, I have heard that." She asked 
quickly, " From whom "^ " and I answered, " From 

Mrs. ; " when she replied, " Oh, yes ! " as 

if recollecting herself 

I then asked her some questions ; in reply to 
which she said, " I will tell you." 

She then spoke of her first acquaintance with 
Lord Byron ; from which I gathered that she, an 
only child, brought up in retirement, and living 



236 LADY BYRON's STORY AS TOLD ME. 

much within herself, had been, as deep natures 
often were, intensely stirred by his poetry ; and 
had felt a deep interest in him personally, as one 
that had the germs of all that is glorious and 
noble. 

When she was introduced to him, and per- 
ceived his admiration of herself, and at last 
received his offer, although deeply moved, she 
doubted her own power to be to him all that a 
wife should be. She declined his offer, there- 
fore, but desired to retain still his friendship. 
After this, as she said, a correspondence ensued, 
mostly on moral and literary subjects ; and, by 
this correspondence, her interest in him was 
constantly increased. 

At last, she sg-id, he sent her a very beautiful 
letter, offering himself again. ' " I thought," she 
added, "that it was sincere, and that I might 
now show him all I felt. I wrote just what was 
in my heart. 

" Afterwards," she said, " I found in one of 
his journals this notice of my letter : 'A letter 
from Bell, — never rains but it pours.'" 



LADY BYRON's STORY AS TOLD ME. 23/ 

There was through her habitual calm a shade 
of womanly indignation • as she spoke these 
words ; but it was gone in a moment. I said, 
" And did he not love you, then .? " She an- 
swered, " No, my dear : he did not love me." 

'' Why, then, did he wish to marry you .? " 
She laid her hand on mine, and said in a low 
voice, " You will see." 

She then told me, that, shortly after the de- 
clared engagement, he came to her father's 
house to visit her as an accepted suitor. The 
visit was to her full of disappointment, His 
appearance was so strange, moody, and unac- 
countable, and his treatment of her so peculiar, 
that she came to the conclusion that he did not 
love her, and sought an opportunity to converse 
with him alone. 

She told him that she saw from his manner 
that their engagement did not give him pleasure ; 
that she should never blame him if he wished to 
dissolve it ; that his nature was exceptional ; and 
if, on a nearer view of the situation, he shrank 



238 LADY BYRON'S STORY AS TOLD ME. 

from it, she would release him, and remain no 
less than ever his friend. 

Upon this, she said, he fainted entirely away. 

She stopped a moment, and then, as if speak- 
ing with great effort, added, " Then I was sure 
he must love me." 

"And did he not.?" said I. "What other 
cause could have led to this emotion } " 

She looked at me very sadly, and said, " Fear 
of detection^ 

" What ! " said I, " did that cause then exist } " 

" Yes," she said,"" it did." And she explained 
that she now attributed Lord Byron's great 
agitation to fear, that, in some way, suspicion 
of the crime had been aroused in her mind, 
and that on this account she was seeking to 
break the engagement. She said, that, from 
that moment, her sympathies were aroused for 
him, to soothe the remorse and anguish which 
seemed preying on his mind, and which she 
then regarded as the sensibility of an unusually 
exacting moral nature, which judged itself by 



LADY BYRON S STORY AS TOLD ME. 239 

higher standards, and condemned itself unspar- 
ingly for what most young men of his times 
regarded as venial faults. She had every hope 
for his future, and all the enthusiasm of belief 
that so many men and women of those times 
and ours have had in his intrinsic nobleness. 
She said the gloom, however, seemed to be even 
deeper when he came to the marriage ; but she 
looked at it as the suffering of a peculiar being, 
to whom she was called to minister. I said to 
her, that, even in the days of my childhood, I 
had heard of something very painful that had 
passed as they were in the carriage, immediately 
after marriage. She then said that it was so ; 
that almost his first words, when they were 
alone, were, that she might once have saved 
him ; that, if she had accepted him when he 
first offered, she might have made him any thing 
she pleased ; but that, as it was, she would find 
she had married a devil. 

The conversation, as recorded in Lady Anne 
Barnard's Diary, seems only a continuation of 



240 LADY BYRON S STORY AS TOLD ME. 

the foregoing, and just what might have followed 
upon it. 

I then asked how she became certain of the 
true cause. 

She said, that, from the outset of their married 
life, his conduct towards her was strange and 
unaccountable, even during the first weeks after 
the wedding, while they were visiting her friends, 
and outwardly on good terms. He seemed 
resolved to shake and combat both her religious 
principles and her views of the family state. He 
tried to undermine her faith in Christianity as a 
rule of life by argument and by ridicule. He 
set before her the Continental idea of the liberty 
of marriage ; it being a simple partnership of 
friendship and property, the parties to which 
were allowed by one another to pursue their own 
separate individual tastes. He told her, that, as 
he could not be expected to confine himself to 
her, neither should he expect or wish that she 
should confine herself to him ; that she was 
young and pretty, and could have her lovers. 



LADV BYRON S STORY AS TOLD ME. 24 1 

and he should never object ; and that she must 
allow him the same freedom. 

She said that she did not comprehend to what 
this was tending till after they came to London, 
and his sister came to stay with them. 

At what precise time the idea of an improper 
connection between her husband and his sister 
was first forced upon her, she did not say ; but 
she told me hoiv it was done. She said that one 
night, in her presence, he treated his sister with 
a liberty which both shocked and astonished her. 
Seeing her amazement and alarm, he came up 
to her, and said, in a sneering tone, " I suppose 
you perceiv^ _,^.. are not wanted here. Go to 
your own room, and leave us alone. We can 
amuse ourselves better without you." 

She said, " I went to my room, trembling. I 
fell down on my knees, and prayed to my heav- 
enly Father to have mercy on them. I thought, 
' What shall I do .? ' " 

I remember, after this, a pause in the conver- 
sation, during which she seemed struggling with 



242 LADY BYRON S STORY AS TOLD ME. 

thoughts and emotions ; and, for my part, I was 
unable to utter a word, or ask a question. 

She did not tell me what followed immediately 
upon this, nor how soon after she spoke on the 
■ \' 1th either of the parties. She first 

began U> peak of conversations afterward held 
with .Loid Byron, in which he boldly avowed the 
corv;. '-.' as having existed in time past, and 
as one that was to continue in time to come ; 
and implied that she must submit to it. She 
put it to his conscience as concerning his sister's 
soul, and he said that it was no sin ; that it was 
the way the world was first peopled : the Scrip- 
tures taught that all the world descended from 
one pair ; and how could that be unless brothers 
married their sisters ? that, if not a sin then, it 
could not be a sin now. 

I immediately said, " Why, Lady Byron, those 
are the very arguments given in the drama of 
' Cain.' " 

" The very same," was her reply. " He could 
reason very speciously on this subject." She 



LADY BYRON's STORY AS TOLD ME. 243 

went on to say, that, when she pressed him hard 
with the universal sentiment of mankind as to 
the horror and the crime, he took another turn, 
and said that the horror and crime were the very 
attraction ; that he had worn out all ordinary 
forms of sin, and that he " longed for the stUmi- 
lus of a new kind of vice!' She set before him 
the dread of detection ; and then he became 
furious. She should never be the means of his 
detection, he said. She should leave him ; that 
he was resolved upon : but she should always 
bear all the blame of the separation. In the 
sneering tone which was common with him, he 
said, " The world will believe me, and it will not 
believe you. The world has made up its mind 
that ' By ' is a glorious boy ; and the world will 
go for ' By,' right or wrong. Besides, I shall 
make it my life's object to discredit you : I shall 
use all my powers. Read ' Caleb Williams,' * 
and you will see that I shall do by you just as 
Falkland did by Caleb." 

* This novel of Godwin's is a remarkably powerful story. It is related 
in the first person by the supposed hero, Caleb Williams. He represents 



244 LADY BYRON S STORY AS TOLD ME. 

I said that all this seemed to me like insanity. 
She said that she was for a time led to think 
that it was insanity, and excused and pitied 
him ; that his treatment of her expressed such 
hatred and malignity, that she knew not what 
else to think of it ; that he seemed resolved to 
drive her out of the house at all hazards, and 

himself as private secretary to a gentleman of high family named Falkland. 
Caleb accidentally discovers that his patron has, in a moment of passion, 
committed a murder. Falkland confesses the crime to Caleb, and tells him 
that henceforth he shall always suspect him, and keep watch over him. 
Caleb finds this watchfulness insupportable, and tries to escape, but without 
success. He writes a touching letter to his patron, hnploring him to let him 
go, and promising never to betray him. The scene where Falkland refuses 
this is the most highly wrought in the book. He says to him, " Do not im- 
gine that I am afraid of you ! I wear an armor against which all your 
weapons are impotent. I have dug a pit for you ; and whichever way you 
move, backward or forward, to the right or the left, it is ready to swallow you. 
Be still ! If once you fall, call as loud as you will, no man on earth shall 
hear your cries : prepare a tale however plausible or however true, the whole 
world shall execrate you for an impostor. Your innocence shall be of no ser- 
vice to you. I laugh at so feeble a defence. It is I that say it : you may 
believe what I tell you. Do you know, miserable wretch ! " added he, 
stamping on the ground with fury, " that I have sworn to preserve my repu- 
tation, whatever be the expense ; that I love it more than the whole world 
and its inhabitants taken together? and do you think that you shall wound 
it? " The rest of the book shows how this threat was executed. 



LADY BVRON S STORY AS TOLD ME. 245 

threatened her, if she should remain, in a way 
to alarm the heart of any woman : yet, think- 
ing him insane, she left him at last with the 
sorrow with which any one might leave a dear 
friend whose reason was wholly overthrown, 
and to whom in this desolation she was no 
longer permitted to minister. 

I inquired in one of the pauses of the con- 
versation whether Mrs. Leigh was a peculiarly 
beautiful or attractive woman. 

" No, my dear : she was plain." 

" Was she, then, distinguished for genius or 
talent of any kind ? " 

" Oh, no ! Poor woman ! she was weak, rela- 
tively, to him, and wholly under his control." 

" And what became of her ? " I said. 

" She afterwards repented, and became a truly 
good woman." I think it was here she men- 
tioned that she had frequently seen and con- 
versed w^th Mrs. Leigh in the latter part of her 
life ; and she seemed to derive comfort from the 
recollection. 



246 LADY RVRON S STORY AS TOLD ME. 

I asked, " Was there a ehild ? " T hatl been 

told by ]\Irs. that there \vas a daughter, 

who had hved some Years. 

She said there was one. a daughter, who 
made her friends mueh trouble, being of a ycfy 
diffieult nature to manage. I had understood 
that at one time this daughter eseaped from her 
friends to the Continent, and that Lady Byron 
assisted in et^brts to recoYer her. Of Lady 
Byron's kindness both to INIrs. Leigh and the 

ehild. I had before heard from Mrs. , who 

gaYe me my first information. 

It is also strongly impressed on my mind, that 
Lady BYron. in answer to some question of mine 
as to whether there was OYer any meeting 
between Lord Byron and his sister after he left 
England, answered, that she had insisted upon 
it, or made it a condition, that Mrs. Leigh should 
not go abroad to him. 

When the couYersation as to events was over, 
as I stood musing, I said, " Have you no evi- 
dence that he repented ? " and alluded to the 



247 

mystery of his death, and the message he en- 
deavored to utter. 

She answered quickly, and with gpreat decision, 
that, whatever might have been his meaning at 
that hour, she felt sure he had finally repented ; 
and added with great earnestness, " I do not 
believe that any child of the heavenly Father is 
ever left to eternal sin." 

I said that such a hope wars most delightful to 
my feelings, but that I had always regarded the 
indulgence of it as a dangerous one. 

Her look, voice, and manner, at that moment, 
are indelibly fixed in my mind. She looked at 
me so sadly, so firmly, and said, — 

" Danger, Mrs. Stowe ! What danger can 
come from indulging that hope, like the danger 
that comes from not having it } " 

I said in my turn, " What danger comes from 
not having it t " 

" The danger of losing all- faith in God," she 
said, " all hope for others, all strength to try and 
save them. I once knew a lady," she added, 



24^ LADY BYRON's STORY AS TOLD ME. 

"who was in a state of scepticism and despair 
from belief in that doctrine. I think I saved 
her by giving her my faith." 

I was silent ; and she continued : " Lord Byron 
believed in eternal punishment fully : for, though 
he reasoned against Christianity as it is com- 
monly received, he could not reason himself out 
of it ; and I think it made him desperate. He 
used to say, ' The worst of it .is, I do believe.' 
Had he seen God as I see him, I am sure his 
heart would have relented." 

She went on to say, that his sins, great as they 
were, admitted of much palliation and excuse ; 
that he was the child of singular and ill-matched 
parents ; that he had an organization originally 
fine, but one capable equally of great good or 
great evil ; that in his childhood he had only the 
worst and most fatal influences ; that he grew 
up into manhood with no guide ; that there was 
every thing in the classical course of the schools 
to develop an unhealthy growth of passion, and 
no moral influence of any kind to restrain it ; 



LADY BYRON's STORY AS TOLD ME. 249 

that the manners of his clay were corrupt ; that 
what were now considered vices in society were 
then spoken of as matters of course among 
young noblemen ; that drinking, gaming, and 
licentiousness everywhere abounded ; and that, 
up to a certain time, he was no worse than mul- 
titudes of other young men of his day, — only 
that the vices of his day were worse for him. 
The excesses of passion, the disregard of 
physical laws in eating, drinking, and living, 
wrought effects on him that they did not on less 
sensitively organized frames, and prepared him 
for the evil hour when he fell into the sin which 
shaded his whole life. All the rest was a strug- 
gle with its consequences, — sinning more and 
more to conceal the sin of the past. But she be- 
lieved he never outlived remorse; that he al- 
ways suffered ; and that this showed that God had 
not utterly forsaken him. Remorse, she said, 
always showed moral sensibility; and, while that 
remained, there was always hope. 

She now began to speak of her grounds for 



250 LADY BYRON S STORY AS TOLD ME. 

thinking it might be her duty fully to publish 
this story before she left the world. 

First she said, that, through the whole course 
of her life, she had felt the eternal value of truth, 
and seen how dreadful a thing was falsehood, 
and how fearful it was to be an accomplice in it, 
even by silence. Lord Byron had demoralized 
the moral sense of England, and he had done it 
in a great degree by the sympathy excited by 
falsehood. This had been pleaded in extenua- 
tion of all his crimes and vices, and led to a low- 
ering of the standard of morals in the literary 
world. Now it was proposed to print cheap edi- 
tions of his works, and sell them among the com- 
mon people, and interest them in him by the 
circulation of this same story. 

She then said to this effect, that she believed 
in retribution and suffering in the future life, and 
that the consequences of sins hej^e follow us there ; 
and it was strongly impressed upon her mind 
that Lord Byron must suffer in looking on the 
evil consequences of what he had done in this 



LADY BYRON S STORY AS TOLD ME. 25 I 

life, and in seeing the further extension of that 
evil. 

" It has sometimes strongly appeared to me," 
she said, " that he cannot be at peace until this 
injustice has been righted. Such is the strong 
feeUng that I have when I think of going where 
he is." 

These things, she said, had led her to inquire 
whether it might not be her duty to make a 
full and clear disclosure before she left the 
world. 

Of course, I did not listen to this story as one 
who was investigating its worth. I received it 
as truth. And the purpose for which it was 
communicated was not to enable me to prove it 
to the world, but to ask my opinion whether 
she should show it to the world before leaving it. 
The whole consultation was upon the assumption 
that she had at her command such proofs as 
could not be questioned. 

Concerning what they were I did not minutely 
inquire : only, in answer to a general question, 



252 LADV BVRON's story AS TOLD ME. 

she said that she had letters and documents in 
proof of her story. Knowing Lady Byron's 
strength of mind, her clear-headedness, her ac- 
curate habits, and her perfect knowledge of the 
matter, I considered her judgment on this point 
decisive. 

I told her that I would take the subject into 
consideration, and give my opinion in a few days. 
That night, after my sister and myself had re- 
tired to our own apartment, I related to her the 
whole history, and we spent the night in talking 
of it. I was powerfully impressed with the jus- 
tice and propriety of an immediate disclosure ; 
while she, on the contrary, represented the 
painful consequences that would probably come 
upon Lady Byron from taking such a step. 

Before we parted the next day, I requested 
Lady Byron to give me some memoranda of such 
dates and outlines of the general story as would 
enable me better to keep it in its connection ; 
which she did. 

On giving me the paper, Lady Byron requested 



LADY BYRON S STORY AS TOLD ME. 253 

me to return it to her when it had ceased to be 
of use to me for the purpose indicated. 

Accordingly, a day or two after, I enclosed it 
to her in a hasty note, as I was then leaving 
London for Paris, and had not yet had time 
fully to consider the subject. 

On reviewing my note, I can recall that then 
the whole history appeared to me like one of 
those singular cases where unnatural impulses to 
vice are the result of a taint of constitutional in- 
sanity. This has always seemed to me the only 
way of accounting for instances of utterly mo- 
tiveless and abnormal wickedness and cruelty. 
These my first impressions were expressed in 
the hasty note written at the time : — 

" London, Nov. 5, 1856. 

" Dearest Friend, — I return these. They have held 
mine eyes waking ! How strange ! how unaccountable ! Have 
you ever subjected the facts to the judgment of a medical man 
learned in nervous pathology ? 

" Is it not insanity t 

' Great wits to madness nearly are allied, 
And thin partitions do their bounds divide.' 



254 I-ADY BYRON S STORY AS TOLD ME. 

" But my purpose to-night is not to write you fully what I 
think of this matter. I am going to write to you from Paris 
more at leisure." 

The rest of the letter was taken up in the 
final details of a charity in which Lady Byron 
had been engaged with me in assisting an un- 
fortunate artist. It concludes thus : — 

" I write now in all haste, at route for Paris. As to America, 
all is not lost yet.* Farewell ! I love you, my dear friend, as 
never before, with an intense feeling I cannot easily express. 
God bless you ! '« H. B. S." 

The next letter is as follows : — 

" Paris, Dec. 17, 1856. 

" Dear Lady Byron, — The Kansas Committee have written 

me a letter desiring me to express to Miss their gratitude 

for the five pounds she sent them. I am not personally ac- 
quainted with her, and must return these acknowledgments 
through you. 

*' I wrote you a day or two since, enclosing the reply of the 
Kansas Committee to you. 

" On that subject on which you spoke to me the last time we 
were together, I have thought often and deeply. 

* Alluding to Buohanan's election. 



LADY BYRON's STORY AS TOLD ME. 255 

" I have changed my mind somewhat. 

"Considering the peculiar circumstances of the case, I could 
wish that the sacred veil of silence, so bravely thrown over the 
past, should never be withdrawn during the time that you remain 
with us. 

" I would say, then, Leave all with some discreet friends, who, 
after both have passed from earth, shall say what was due to 
Justice. 

" I am led to think this by seeing how low, how unjust, how 
unworthy, the judgments of this world are ; and I would not 
* that what I so much respect, love, and revere, should be placed 
within reach of its harpy claw, which pollutes what it touches. 

"The day will yet come which will bring to light every 
hidden thing. 'There is nothing covered that shall not be 
revealed, neither hid that shall not be known ; ' and so justice 
■ will not fail. 

" Such, my dear friend, are my thoughts ; different from what 
they were since first I heard that strange, sad history. Mean- 
while, I love you ever, whether we meet again on earth or not. 

" Affectionately yours, " H. B. S." 

The following letter will here be inserted as 
confirming a part of Lady Byron's story : — 

To THE Editor of "Macmillan's Magazine." 
" Sir, — I trust that you will hold me excused from any 
desire to be troublesome, or to rush into print. Both these 



256 LADY BYRON's STORY AS TOLD ME. 

things are far from my wish. But the publication of a book 
having for its object the vindication of Lord Byron's character, 
and the subsequent appearance in your magazine of Mrs. 
Stowe's article in defence of Lady Byron, having led to so much 
controversy in the various newspapers of the day, I feel con- 
strained to put in a few words among the rest. 

" My father was intimately acquainted with Lady Byron's 
family for many years, both before and after her marriage ; being, 
in fact, steward to Sir Ralph Milbanke at Seaham, where the 
marriage took place : and, from all my recollections of what he 
told me of the affair (and he used often to talk of it, up to the 
time of his death, eight years ago), I fully agree with Mrs. 
Stowe's view of the case, and desire to add my humble testi- 
mony to the truth of what she has stated. 

" Whilst Byron was staying at Seaham, previous to his mar- 
riage, he spent most of his time pistol-shooting in the planta- 
tions adjoining the hall, often making use of his glove as a 
m.ark ; his servant being with him to load for him. 

" When all was in readiness for the wedding-ceremony 
(which took place in the drawing-room of the hall), Byron had 
to be sought for in the grounds, where he was walking in his 
usual surly mood. 

" After the marriage, they posted to Halnaby Lodge in York- 
shire, a distance of about forty miles ; to which place my father 
accompanied them, and he always spoke strongly of Lady By- 
ron's apparent distress during and at the end of the journey. 

" The insulting words mentioned by Mrs. Stowe were spoken 



LADY BYRON S STORY AS TOLD ME. 25/ 

by Byron before leaving the park at Seaham ; after which he 
appeared to sit in moody silence, reading a book, for the rest 
of the journey. At Halnaby, a number of persons, tenants and 
others, were met to cheer them on their arrival. Of these he 
took not the slightest notice, but jumped out of the carriage, 
and walked away, leaving his bride to alight by herself. She 
shook hands with my father, and begged that he would see that 
some refreshment was supplied to those who had thus come to 
welcome them. 

" I have in my possession several letters (which I should be 
glad to show to any one interested in the matter) both from 
Lady Byron, and her mother. Lady Milbanke, to my father, all 
showing the deep and kind interest which .they took in the 
welfare of all connected with them, and directing the distribu- 
tion of various charities, &c. Pensions were allowed both to 
the old servants of the Milbankes and to several poor persons 
in the village and neighborhood for the rest of their lives ; and 
Lady Byron never ceased to take a lively interest in all that 
concerned them. 

"I desire to tender my humble thanks to Mrs. Stowe for 

having come forward in defence of one whose character has 

been much misrepresented ; and to you, sir, for having published 

the same in your pages. 

" I have the honor to be, sir, yours obediently, 

«' G. H. AiRD. 
"Daourty, Northamptonshire, Sept. 29, 1869." 

17 



CHAPTER III. 

CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY OF EVENTS. 

T HAVE now fulfilled as conscientiously as 
possible the requests of those who feel that 
they have a right to know exactly what was 
said in this interview. 

It has been my object, in doing this, to place 
myself just where I should stand were I giving 
evidence under oath before a legal tribunal. In 
my first published account, there were given 
some smaller details of the story, of no particu- 
lar value to the main purpose of it, which I 
received, not from Lady Byron, but from her 
confidential friend. One of these was the ac- 
count of her seeing Lord Byron's favorite span- 
iel lying at his door, and' the other was the 

scene of the parting. 

258 ^ 



CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY OF EVENTS. 259 

The first was communicated to me before I 
ever saw Lady Byron, and under these circum- 
stances : I was invited to meet her, and had 
expressed my desire to do so, because Lord 
Byron had been all my life an object of great 
interest to me. I inquired what sort of a per- 
son Lady Byron was. My friend spoke of her 
with enthusiasm. I then said, " But of course 
she never loved Lord Byron, or she would not 
have left him." The lady answered, " I can 
show you with what feelings she left him by 
relating this story;" and then followed the 
anecdote. 

Subsequently, she also related to me the other 
story of the parting-scene between Lord and 
Lady Byron. In regard to these two incidents, 
my recollection is clear. 

It will be observed by the reader that Lady 
Byron's conversation with me was simply for 
consultation on one point, and that point whether 
she herself should publish the story before her 
death. It was not, therefore, a complete history 



26o CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY OF EVENTS. 

of all events in their order, but specimens of a 
few incidents and facts. Her object was, not to 
prove her story to me, nor to put me in posses- 
sion of it with a view to ;;/y proving it, but sim- 
ply and briefly to show me w/mt it was, that I 
might judge as to the probable results of its pub- 
lication at that time. 

It therefore comprised primarily these 
points : — 

1. An exact statement, in so many words, of 
the crime. 

2. A statement of the manner in which it was 
first forced on her attention by Lord Byron's 
words and actions, including his admissions and 
defences of it. 

3. The admission of a period when she had 
ascribed his whole conduct to insanity. 

4. A reference to later positive evidences of 
guilt, — the existence of a child, and Mrs. 
Leigh's subsequent repentance. 

And here I have a word to say in reference 
to the alleged inaccuracies of my true story. 



CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY OF EVENTS. 20l 

The dates that Lady Byron gave me on the 
memoranda did not relate either to the time of 
the first disclosure, or the period when her 
doubts became certainties ; nor did her conversa- 
tion touch either of these points : and, on a care- 
ful review of the latter, I see clearly that it 
omitted dwelling upon any thing which I might 
be supposed to have learned from her already 
published statement. 

I re-enclosed that paper to her from London, 
and have never seen it since. 

In writing my account, which I designed to 
do in the most general terms, I took for ray 
guide Miss Martineau's published Memoir of 
Lady Byron, which has long stood uncontra- 
dicted before the public, of which Macmillan's 
London edition is now before me. The reader 
is referred to page 316, which reads thus : — 

" She was born 1 792 ; married in January, 
1814; returned to her father's house in 1816 ; 
died on May 16, i860." This makes her mar- 
ried life two years ; but we need not say that 



262 CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY OF EVENTS. 

the date is inaccurate, as Lady Byron was mar- 
ried in 1 815. 

Supposing Lady Byron's married life to have 
covered two years, I could only reconcile its 
continuance for that length of time to her un- 
certainty as to his sanity; to deceptions prac- 
tised on her, making her doubt at one time, and 
believe at another ; and his keeping her in a 
general state of turmoil and confusion, till at 
last he took the step of banishing her. 

Various other points taken from Miss Marti- 
neau have also been attacked as inaccuracies ; 
for example, the number of executions in the 
house : but these points, though of no impor- 
tance, are substantially borne out by Moore's 
statements. 

This controversy, unfortunately, cannot be 
managed with the accuracy of a legal trial. Its 
course, hitherto, has rather resembled the course 
of a drawing-room scandal, where every one 
freely throws in an assertion, with or without 
proof In making out my narrative, however, I 



y 



CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY OF EVENTS. 263 

shall use only certain authentic sources, some 
of which have for a long time been before the 
public, and some of which have floated up from 
the waves of the recent controversy. I consider 
as authentic sources, — 

Moore's Life of Byron ; 

Lady Byron's own account of the separation, 
published in 1830 ; 

Lady Byron's statements to me in 1856 ; 

Lord Lindsay's communication, giving an 
extract from Lady Anne Barnard's diary, and a 
copy of a letter from Lady Byron dated 1818, 
about three years after her marriage ; 

Mrs. Minn's testimony as given in a daily 
paper published at Newcastle, England ; 

And Lady Byron's letters, as given recently 
in the late " London Quarterly." 

All which documents appear to arrange them- 
selves into a connected series. 

From these, then, let us construct the story. 

According to Mrs. Minn's account, which is 
likely to be accurate, the time spent by Lord 



26a. chronological summary of events. 

and Lady Byron in bridal-visiting was three 
weeks at Halnaby Hall, and six weeks at 
Seaham, when Mrs. Minn quitted their ser- 
vice. 

During this first period of three weeks, Lord 
Byron's treatment of his wife, as testified to by 
the servant, was such that she advised her 
young mistress to return to her parents ; and, at 
one time, Lady Byron had almost resolved to do 
so. 

What the particulars of his conduct were, the 
servant refuses to state ; being bound by a prom- 
ise of silence to her mistress. She, however, 
testifies to a warm friendship existing between 
Lady Byron and Mrs. Leigh, in a manner which 
would lead us to feel that Lady Byron received 
and was received by Lord Byron's sister with 
the greatest affection. Lady Byron herself 
says to Lady Anne Barnard, " I had heard that 
he was the best of brothers ; " and the infer- 
ence is, that she, at an early period of her mar- 
ried life, felt the greatest confidence in his sister, 



CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY OF EVENTS. 265 

and wished to have her with them as much as 
possible. In Lady Anne's account, this wish to 
have the sister with her was increased by Lady 
Byron's distress at her husband's attempts to 
corrupt her principles with regard to religion 
and marriage. 

In Moore's Life, vol. iii., letter 217, Lord By- 
ron writes from Seaham to Moore, under date 
of March 8, sending a copy of his verses in 
Lady Byron's handwriting, and saying, " We 
shall leave this place to-morrow, and shall stop 
on our way to town, in the interval of taking a 
house there, at Col. Leigh's, near Newmarket, 
where any epistle of yours will find its welcome 
way. I have been very comfortable here, listen- 
ing to that d d monologue which elderly 

gentlemen call conversation, in which my pious 
father-in-law repeats himself every evening, save 
one, when he played upon the fiddle. However, 
they have been vastly kind and hospitable, and 
I like them and the place vastly ; and I hope 
they will live many happy months. Bell is in 



266 CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY OF EVENTS. 

health and unvaried good-humor and behavior ; 
but we are in all the agonies of jDacking and 
parting." 

Nine days after this, under date of March '17, 
Lord Byron says, *' We mean to metropolize 
to-morrow, and you will address your next to 
Piccadilly." The inference is, that the days 
intermediate were spent at Col. Leigh's. The 
next letters, and all subsequent ones for six 
months, are dated from Piccadilly. 

As we have shown, there is every reason to 
believe that a warm friendship had thus arisen 
between Mrs. Leigh and Lady Byron, and that, 
during all this time, Lady Byron desired as 
much of the society of her sister-in-law as pos- 
sible. She was a married woman and a mother, 
her husband's nearest relative ; and Lady Byron 
could with more propriety ask, from her, counsel 
or aid in respect to his peculiarities than she 
could from her own parents. If we consider 
the character of Lady Byron as given by Mrs. 
Minns, — that of a young person of warm but 



CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY OF EVENTS. 26/ 

repressed feeling, without sister or brother, long- 
ing for human sympathy, and having so far found 
no relief but in talking with a faithful depend- 
ant, — we may easily see that the acquisition of 
a sister through Lord Byron might have been 
all in all to her, and that the feelings which he 
checked and rejected for himself might have 
flowed out towards his sister with enthusiasm. 
The date of Mrs, Leigh's visit does not appear. 

The first domestic indication in Lord Byron's 
letters from London is the announcement of the 
death of Lady Byron's uncle. Lord Wentworth, 
from whom came large expectations of property. 
Lord Byron had mentioned him before in his 
letters as so kind to Bell and himself, that he 
could not find it in his heart to wish him in 
heaven if he preferred staying here. In his let- 
ter of April 23, he mentions going to the play 
immediately after hearing this news, ** although," 
as he says, *' he ought to have staid at home 
in sackcloth for ' unc' " 

On June 12, he writes that Lady Byron is 



268 CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY OF EVENTS. 

more than three months advanced in her prog- 
ress towards maternity; and that they have been 
out very little, as he wishes to keep her quiet. 
We are informed by Moore that Lord Byron 
was at this time a member of the Drury-Lane 
Theatre Committee; and that, in this unlucky 
connection, one of the fatalities of the first year 
of trial as a husband lay. From the strain of 
Byron's letters, as given in Moore, it is appar- 
ent, that, while he thinks it best for his wife to 
remain at home, he does not propose to share 
the retirement, but prefers running his own sep- 
arate career with such persons as thronged the 
greenroom of the theatre in those days. 

In commenting on Lord Byron's course, we 
must not by any means be supposed to indicate 
that he was doing any more or worse than most 
gay young men of his time. The license of the 
day as to getting drunk at dinner-parties, and 
leading, generally, what would, in these days, be 
called a disorderly life, was great. We should 
infer that none of the literary men of Byron's 



CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY OF EVENTS. 269 

time would have been ashamed of being drunk 
occasionally. The Noctes Ambrosianae Club 
of " Blackwood " is full of songs glorying, in the 
broadest terms, in out-and-out drunkenness, and 
inviting to it as the highest condition of a civil- 
ized being.* 

But drunkenness upon Lord Byron had a 
peculiar and specific effect, which he notices 
afterwards, in his Journal, at Venice : " The 
effect of all wines and spirits upon me is, how- 
ever, strange. It settles, but makes me gloomy, 
— gloomy at the very moment of their effect: 
it composes, however, though sullenlyr f And 
again, in another place, he says, '' Wine and 
spirits make me sullen, and savage to ferocity." 

* Shelton Mackenzie, in a note to the "Noctes" of July, 1822, gives 
the following saying of Maginn, one of the principal lights of the club: 
" No man, however much he might tend to civilization, was to be regarded as 
having absolutely reached its apex until he was drunk." He also records it 
as a further joke of the club, that a man's having reached this apex was to 
be tested by his inability to pronounce the word " civilization," which, he 
says, after ten o'clock at night ought to be abridged to civilation, " by syn- 
cope, or vigorously speaking by hic-cup." . . 

t Vol. v. pp. 61, 75. 



270 CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY OF EVENTS. 

It is well known that the effects of alcoholic 
excitement are various as the natures of the 
subjects. But by far the worst effects, and the 
most destructive to domestic peace, are those 
that occur in cases where spirits, instead of act- 
ing on the nerves of motion, and depriving the 
subject of power in that direction, stimulate 
the brain so as to produce there the ferocity, the 
steadiness, the utter deadness to compassion or 
conscience, which characterize a madman. How 
fearful to a sensitive young mother in the period 
of pregnancy might be the return of such a mad- 
man to the domestic roof! Nor can we account 
for those scenes described in Lady Anne Bar- 
nard's letters, where Lord Byron returned from 
his evening parties to try torturing experiments 
on his wife, otherwise than by his own state- 
ment, that spirits, while they steadied him, 
made him " gloomy, and savage to ferocity." 
Take for example this : — 

" One night, coming home from one of his lawless parties, 
he saw me (Lady B.) so indignantly collected, and bearing all 



CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY OF EVENTS. 2/1 

with such a determined cahiiness, that a rush of remorse 
seemed to come over him. He called himself a m.onster, and, 
though his sister was present, threw himself in agony at my 
feet. ' I could not, no, I could not, forgive him such injuries ! 
He had lost me forever ! ' Astonished at this return to virtue, 
my tears, T believe, flowed over his face ; and I said, ' Byron, 
all is forgotten : never, never shall you hear of it more.' 

" He started up, and, folding his arms while he looked at 
me, burst out into laughter. ' What do you mean ? ' said I. 
* Only a philosophical experiment ; that's all,' said he. ' I wished 
to ascertain the value of your resolutions.' " 

To ascribe such deliberate cruelty as this to 
the effect of drink upon Lord Byron, is the most 
charitable construction that can be put upon his 
conduct. 

Yet the manners of the period were such, 
that Lord Byron must have often come to 
this condition while only doing what many of 
his acquaintances did freely, and without fear 
of consequences. 

Mr. Moore, with his usual artlessness, gives 
us an idea of a private supper between himself 
and Lord Byron. We give it, with our own 
Italics, as a specimen of many others : — 



2/2 CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY OF EVENTS. 

" Having taken upon me to order the repast, and knowing 
that Lord Byron for the last two days had done nothing 
towards sustenance beyond eating a few biscuits and (to 
appease appetite) chewing mastic, I desired that we should 
have a good supply of at least two kinds of fish. My com- 
panion, however, confined himself to lobsters ; and of these 
finished two or three, to his own share, interposing, some- 
times, a small liqueur-glass of strong white brandy, sometimes 
a tumbler of very hot water, and then pure brandy again, to the 
amount of near half a dozen small glasses of the latter, without 
which, alternately with the hot water, he appeared to think the 
lobster could not be digested. After this, we had claret, of 
which, having despatched two bottles between us, at about four 
o'clock in the morning we parted. 

" As Pope has thought his ' delicious lobster-nights ' worth 
commemorating, these particulars of one in which Lord Byron 
was concerned may also have some interest. 

" Among other nights of the sa/ne description tvhich I had the 
happiness of passing with him, I remember once, in returning 
home from some assembly at rather a late hour, we saw lights 
in the windows of his old haunt, Stevens's in Bond Street, and 
agreed to stop there and sup. On entering, we found an old 

friend of his. Sir G W , who joined our party ; and, the 

lobsters and brandy and water being put in requisition, it was {as 
usual on siirh occasions) broad daylight before we separated."*^ — 
Vol. iii. p. 83. 



CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY OF EVENTS. 2/3 

During the latter part of Lady Byron's preg- 
nancy, it appears from Moore that Byron was, 
night after night, engaged out at dinner-parties, 
in which getting drunk was considered as of 
course \hQ finale, as appears from the following 
letters : — 

[Letter 22S.] 
TO MR. MOORE. 

"Terrace, Piccadilly, Oct. 31, 1815. 

" I have not been able to ascertain precisely the time of 
duration of the stock-market ; but I believe it is a good time 
for selling out, and I hope so. First, because I shall see you ; 
and, next, because I shall receive certain moneys on behalf of 
Lady B., the which will materially conduce to my comfort ; I 
wanting (as the duns say) ' to make up a sum.' 

" Yesterday I dined out with a large-ish party, where were 
Sheridan and Colman, Harry Harris of C. G,, and his brother, 
Sir Gilbert Heathcote, Ds. Kinnaird, and others of note and 
notoriety. Like other parties of the kind,^ it was first silent, then 
talky, then argumentative., then disputatious, then nnijttelligible,* 
then altogethery, then inarticulate, and then drunk. When we 
had reached the last step of this glorious ladder, it was difficult 
to get down again without stumbling ; and, to crown all, Kin- 
naird and I had to conduct Sheridan down a d d corkscrew 

staircase, which had certainly been constructed before the dis- 



* These Italics are ours. 
[8 



2/4 CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY OF EVENTS. 

covery of fermented liquors, and to which no legs, however 
crooked, could jDossibly accommodate themselves. We deposited 
him safe at home, where his man, evidently iistd to the business,"^- 
waited to receive him in the hall. 

" Both he and Colman were, as usual, very good ; but I 
carried away much wine, and the wine had previously carried 
away my memory : so that all was hiccough and happiness for the 
last hour or so, and I am not impregnated with any of the con- 
versation. Perhaps you heard of a late answer of Sheridan to 
the watchman who found him bereft of that 'divine particle 
of air ' called reason. . . . He (the watchman) found Sherry 
in the street, fuddled and bewildered, and almost insensible. 
' Who are yoii, sir .'' ' — No answer. ' What's your name ? ' — A 
hiccough. ' What's your name .'' ' — Answer, in a slow, deliber- 
ate, and impassive tone, ' Wilberforce ! ' Is not that Sherry 
all over } — and, to my mind, excellent. Poor fellow ! his very 
dregs are better than the ' first sprightly runnings ' of others. 

" My paper is full, and I have a grievous headache. 

"P.S. — Lady B. is in full progress. Next month will bring 
to light (with the aid of ' Juno Lucina, fer opem,'' or rather opes, 
for the last are most wanted) the tenth wonder of the world ; 
Gil Bias being the eighth, and he (my son's father) the ninth." 

Here we have a picture of the whole story, — 
Lady Byron within a month of her confinement ; 

* These Italics are ours. 



CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY OF EVENTS. 2/5 

her money being used to settle debts ; her hus- 
band out at a dinner-party, going through the 
tLStial coiu'se of such parties, able to keep his 
legs and help Sheridan down stairs, and going 
home " gloomy, and savage to ferocity," to his 
wife. 

Four days after this (letter 229), we find that 
this dinner-party is not an exceptional one, 
but one of a series : for he says, " To-day I dine 
with Kinnaird, — we are to have Sheridan and 
Colman again ; and to-morrow, once more, at Sir 
Gilbert Hcathcote's." 

Afterward, in Venice, he reviews the state 
of his health at this period in London ; and 
his account shows that his excesses in the 
vices of his times had wrought effects on his 
sensitive, nervous organization, very different 
from what they might on the more phlegmatic 
constitutions of ordinary Englishmen. In his 
journal, dated Venice, Feb. 2, 1821, he says, — 

" I have been considering what can be the reason why I 
always wake at a certain hour in the morning, and always in 



276 CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY OF EVENTS. 

very bad spirits, — I may say, in actual despair and despond- 
ency, in all respects, even of that which pleased me over night. 
In about an hour or two this goes off, and I compose either to 
sleep again, or at least to quiet. In England, five years ago, I 
had the same kind of hypochondria, but accompanied with so 
violent a thirst, that I have drunk as many as fifteen bottles of 
soda-water in one night, after going to bed, and been still 
thirsty, — calculating, however, some lost from the bursting-out 
and effervescence and overflowing of the soda-water in drawiiig 
the corks, or striking off the necks of the bottles from mere 
thirsty impatience. At present, I have not the thirst ; but the 
depression of spirits is no less violent." — Vol. v. p. 96. 

These extracts go to show what must have 
been the condition of the man whom Lady Byron 
was called to receive at the intervals when he 
came back from his various social excitements 
and pleasures. That his nerves were exacer- 
bated by violent extremes of abstinence and 
reckless indulgence ; that he was often day 
after day drunk, and that drunkenness made 
him savage and ferocious, — such are the facts 
clearly shown by Mr. Moore's narrative. Of 
the natural peculiarities of Lord Byron's tem- 



CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY OF EVENTS. 2// 

per, he thus speaks to the Countess of Blessing- 
ton : — 

" I often think that I inherit my violence and bad temper 
from my poor mother, —not that my father, from all I could 
ever learn, had a much better : so that it is no wonder I have 
such a very bad one. As long as I can remember any thing, I 
recollect being subject to violent paroxysms of rage, so dispro- 
portioned to the cause as to surprise me when they were over ; 
and this still continues. I cannot coolly view any thing which 
excites my feelings ; and, once the lurking devil in me is roused, 
I lose all command of myself I do not recover a good fit of 
rage for days after. Mind, I do not by this mean that the ill 
humor continues, as, on the contrary, that quickly subsides, ex- 
hausted by its own violence ; but it shakes me terribly, and 
leaves me low and nervous after." — Z^?^ Blessmgton's Cori-ver- 
sations, p, 142. 

That during this time also his irritation and ill 
temper were increased by the mortification of 
duns, debts, and executions, is on the face of 
Moore's story. Moore himself relates one inci- 
dent, which gives some idea of the many which 
may have occurred at these times, in a note on 
p. 215, vol. iv., where he speaks of Lord Byron's 
destroying a favorite old watch that had been 



2/8 CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY OF EVENTS. 

his companion from boyhood, and gone with him 
to Greece. " In a fit of vexation and raire, 
brought upon him by some of those humihating 
embarrassments, to which ho was now ahnost 
daily a pre}% he furiously dashed this watch on 
the hearth, and ground it to pieces with the 
poker among the ashes." 

It is no wonder, that, with a man of this kind 
to manage. Lady Byron should have clung to 
the onl}^ female companionship she could dare to 
trust in the case, and earnestly desired to retain 
with her the sister, who seemed, more than her- 
self, to have influence over him. 

The first letter given by *' The Quarterly," 
from Lady Byron to Mrs. Leigh, without a date, 
evidently belongs to this period, when the sister's 
society presented itself as a refuge in her ap- 
proaching confinement. Mrs. Leigh speaks of 
leaving. The young wife, conscious that the 
house presents no attractions, and that soon she 
herself shall be laid by, cannot urge Mrs. Leigh's 
stay as likely to give her any pleasure, but only 
as a comfort to herself 



CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY OF EVENTS. 2/9 

" You will think me very foolish ; but I have tried two or 
three times, and cannot talk to you of your departure with a 
decent visage : so let me say one v/ord in this way to spare my 
philosophy. With the expectations which I have, I never will 
nor can ask you to stay one moment longer than you are in- 
clined to do. It would pDe] the worst return for all I ever 
received from you. But in this at least I am ' truth itself,' 
when I say, that, whatever the situation may be, there is no 
one whose society is dearer to me, or can contribute more to 
my happiness. These feelings will not change under any cir- 
cumstances, and I should be gVieved if you did not understand 
them. Should you hereafter condemn me, I shall not love you 
less. I will say no more. Judge for yourself about going or 
staying. I wish you to consider ji?«rj^^ if you could be wise 
enough to do that, for the first time in your life. 

" Thine, " A. I. B." 

Addressed on the cover, " To The Hon. Mrs. Leigh." 

This letter not being dated, we have no clew 
but what we obtain from its own internal evi- 
dence. It certainly is not written in Lady By- 
ron's usual, clear, and elegant style ; and is, in 
this respect, in striking contrast to all her letters 
that I have ever seen. 

But the notes written by a young woman under 



280 CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY OF EVENTS. 

such peculiar and distressing circumstances must 
not be judged by the standard of calmer hours. 

Subsequently to this letter, and during that 
stormy irrational period when Lord Byron's 
conduct became daily more and more unaccount- 
able, may have come that startling scene in 
which Lord Byron took every pains to convince 
his wife of improper relations subsisting between 
himself and his sister. 

What an titter desolation this must have been 
to the wife, tearing from her the last hold of 
friendship, and the last refuge to which she had 
clung in her sorrows, may easily be conceived. 

In this crisis, it appears that the sister con- 
vinced Lady Byron that the whole was to be 
attributed to insanity. It would be a convic- 
tion gladly accepted, and bringing infinite relief, 
although still surrounding her path with fearful 
difficulties. 

That such was the case, is plainly asserted 
by Lady Byron in her statement published in 
1830. Speaking of her separation, Lady Byron 
says, — 



CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY OF EVENTS, 28 1 

" The facts are, I left London for Kirkby Mallory, the resi- 
dence of my father and mother, on the 15th of January, 1816. 
Lord Byron had signified to me in writing, Jan. 6, his absolute 
desire that I should leave London on the earliest day that I 
could conveniently fix. It was not safe for me to encounter the 
fatigues of a journey sooner than the 15th. Previously to my 
departure, it had been strongly impressed on my mind that Lord 
Byron was under the influence of insanity. 

" This opinion was in a great measure derived from the com- 
munications made to me by his nearest relatives and personal 
attendant." 

Now, there was no nearer relative than Mrs. 
Leigh ; and the personal attendant was Fletcher. 
It was therefore presumably Mrs. Leigh who 
convinced Lady Byron of her husband's insan- 
ity. 

Lady Byron says, " It was even represented 
to me that he was in danger of destroying him- 
self 

" With the concurrence of his family, I had 
consulted with Dr. Baillie, as a friend, on Jan: 8, 
as to his supposed malady." Now, Lord Byron's 
written order for her to leave came on Jan. 6. 



282 CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY OF EVENTS. 

It appears, then, that Lady Byron, acting in con- 
currence with Mrs. Leigh and others of her lius- 
band's family, consulted Dr. Baillie, on Jan. 8, 
as to what she should do ; the symptoms pre- 
sented to Dr. Baillie being, evidently, insane 
hatred of his wife on the part of Lord Byron, 
and a determination to get her out of the house. 
Lady Byron goes on : — 

" On acquainting him with the state of the case, and with 
Lord Byron's desire that I should leave London, Dr. Baillie 
thought my absence might be advisable as an experiment, 
assziming the fact of mental derangement ; for Dr. Baillie, not 
having had access to Lord Byron, could not pronounce an opin- 
ion on that point, lie enjoined, that, in correspondence with 
Lord Byron, I should avoid all but light and soothing topics. 
Under these impressions, I left London, determined to follow 
the advice given me by Dr. Baillie. Whatever might have been 
the nature of Lord Byron's treatment of me from the time of 
my marriage, yet, supposing him to have been in a state of 
mental alienation, it was not for me, nor for any person of com- 
mon humanity, to manifest at that moment a sense of injury." 

It appears, then, that the domestic situation in 
Byron's house at the time of his wife's expulsion 



CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY OF EVENTS. 283 

was one so grave as to call for family counsel ; 
for Lady Byron, generally accurate, speaks in 
the plural number. " His nearest relatives " 
certainly includes Mrs. Leigh. "His family" 
includes more. That some of Lord Byron's own 
relatives were cognizant of facts at this time, 
and that they took Lady Byron's side, is shown 
by one of his own chance admissions. In vol. 
vi. p. 394, in a letter on Bowles, he says, speak- 
ing of this time, " All my relations, save one, fell 
from me like leaves from a tree in autumn." 
And in Medwin's Conversations he says, " Even 
my cousin George Byron, who had been brought 
up with me, and whom I loved as a brother, took 
my wife's part." The conduct must have been 
inarked in the extreme that led to this result. 

We cannot help stopping here to say that 
Lady Byron's situation at this time has been 
discussed in our days with a want of ordinary 
human feeling that is surprising. Let any 
father and mother, reading this, look on their 
own daughter, and try to make the case their 
own. 



284 CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY OF EVENTS. 

After a few short months of married life, — 
months full of patient endurance of the stran- 
gest and most unaccountable treatment, — she 
comes to them, expelled from her husband's 
house, an object of hatred and aversion to him, 
and having to settle for herself the awful ques- 
tion, whether he is a dangerous madman or a 
determined villain. 

Such was this young wife's situation. 

With a heart at times wrung with compassion 
for her husband as a helpless maniac, and fearful 
that all may end in suicide, yet compelled to 
leave him, she writes on the road the much- 
quoted letter, beginning " Dear Duck." This is 
an exaggerated and unnatural letter, it is true, 
but of precisely the character that might be ex- 
pected from an inexperienced young wife when 
dealing with a husband supposed to be insane. 

The next day, she addressed to Augusta this 
letter : — 

" My dearest A., — It is my great comfort that you are still 
in Piccadilly." 



CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY OF EVENTS. 285 

And again, on the 23d : — 

" Dearest A., — I know you feel for me, as I do for you ; 
and perhaps I am better understood than I think. You have 
been, ever since I knew you, my best comforter ; and will so re- 
main, unless you grow tired of the office, — which may well be." 

We can see here how self-denying and heroic 
appears to Lady Byron the conduct of the sister, 
who patiently remains to soothe and guide and 
restrain the moody madman, whose madness 
takes a form, at times, so repulsive to every wo- 
manly feeling. She intimates that she should 
not wonder should Augusta grow weary of the 
office. 

Lady Byron continues her statement thus : — 

" When I arrived at Kirkby Mallory, my parents were unac- 
quainted with the existence of any causes likely to destroy my 
prospects of happiness ; and, when I communicated to them 
the opinion that had been formed concerning Lord Byron's 
state of mind, they were most anxious to promote his restora- 
tion by every means in their power. They assured those rela- 
tions that were with him in London that ' they would devote 
their whole care and attention to the alleviation of his 
malady.' " 



286 CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY OF EVENTS. 

Here we have a quotation'^ from a letter 
written by Lady Milbanke to the anxious " rela- 
tions " who are taking counsel about 'Lord 
Byron in town. Lady Byron also adds, in 
justification of her mother from Lord Byron's 
slanders, " She had always treated him with 
an afi^ectionate consideration and indulgence, 
which extended to every little peculiarity of 
his feelings. Never did an irritating word es- 
cape her lips in her whole intercourse with him." 

Now comes a remarkable part of Lady 
Byron's statement : — . 

" The accounts given me after I left Lord Byron, by 
those in constant intercourse with him,t added to those doubts 

* This little incident shows the characteristic carefulness and accuracy of 
Lady Byron's habits. This statement was written fourtee7i years after the 
events spoken of; but Lady Byron carefully quotes a passage from her 
mother's letter written at that time. This shows that a copy of Lady Mil- 
banke's letter had been preserved, and makes it appear probable that copies 
of the whole correspondence of that period were also kept. Great light 
could be thrown on the whole transaction, could these documents be 
consulted. 

t Here, again, Lady Byron's sealed papers might furnish light. The 
letters addressed to her at this time by those in constant intercourse with 
Lord Byron are doubtle'Ss preserved, and would show her ground of action. 



CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY OF EVENTS. 28/ 

which had before transiently occurred to my mind as to the 
reality of the alleged disease ; and the reports of his medical 
attendants were far from establishing any thing like Imiacy." 

When these doubts arose in her mind, it is 
not natural to suppose that they should, at first, 
involve Mrs. Leigh. She still appears to Lady 
Byron as the devoted, believing sister, fully con- 
vinced of her brother's insanity, and endeavor- 
ing to restrain and control him. 

But if Lord Byron were sane, if the purposes 
he had avowed to his wife were real, he must 
have lied about his sister in the past," and per- 
haps have the worst intentions for the future. 

The horrors of that state of vacillation be- 
tween the conviction of insanity and the com- 
mencing conviction of something worse can 
scarcely be told. 

At all events, the wife's doubts extend so far, 
that she speaks out to her parents. " Under 
THIS uncertainty," says the statement, " I 
deemed it right to communicate to my parents, 
that, if I were to consider Lord Byron's past 



288 CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY OF EVENTS. 

conduct as that of a person of sound mind, 
nothing could induce me to return to him. It 
therefore appeared expedient, both to them and 
to myself, to consult the ablest advisers. For 
that object, and also to obtain still further infor- 
mation respecting appearances which indicated 
mental derangement, my mother determined to 
go to London. She was empowered by me to 
take legal opinion on a written statement of 
mine ; though I then had reasons for reserving a 
part of tJie case from the knowledge even of my 
father and mother!' 

It is during this time of uncertainty that thfe 
next letter to Mrs. Leigh may be placed. It 
seems to be rather a fragment of a letter than a 
whole one : perhaps it is an extract ; in which 
case it would be desirable, if possible, to view it 
in connection with the remaining text : — 

"Jan. 25, 1816. 
" My dearest Augusta, — Shall I still be your sister ? I 
must resign m^ rights to be so considered ; but I don't think 
that will make any difference in the kindness I have so uni- 
formly experienced from you." 



CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY OF EVENTS. 289 

This fra2:ment is not sisrned, nor finished in 
any way, but indicates that the writer is about 
to take a decisive step. 

On the 17th, as we have seen, Lady Milbanke 
had written, inviting Lord Byron. Subsequently, 
she went to London to make more particular 
inquiries into his state. This fragment seems 
part of a letter from Lady Byron, called forth in 
view of some evidence resulting from her moth- 
er's observations.* 

Lady Byron now adds, — 

" Being convinced by the result of these inquiries, and by 
the tenor of Lord Byron's proceedings, that the notion of in- 
sanity was an illusion, I no longer hesitated to authorize such 
measures as were necessary in order to secure me from ever 
being again placed in his power. 

" Conformably with this resolution, my father wrote to him, 
on the 2d of February, to request an amicable separation." 

The following letter to Mrs. Leigh is dated 
the day after this application, and is in many 
respects a noticeable one : — 

* Probably Lady Milbanke's letters are among the sealed papers, and 

would more fully explain the situation. 
19 



290 CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY OF EVENTS. 

"KiRKBY Mallory, Feb. 3, 1816. 
** My dearest Augusta, — You are desired by your broth- 
er to ask if my fatlaer has acted with my concurrence in pro- 
posing a separation. He has. It cannot be supposed, that, in 
my present distressing situation, I am capable of stating in a 
detailed manner the reasons which will not only justify this 
measure, but compel me to take it ; and it never can be my 
wish to remember ■unnecessarily \_sic\ those injuries for which, 
however deep, I feel no resentment. I will now only recall to 
Lord Byron's mind his avowed and insurmountable aversion to 
the married state, and the desire and determination he has 
expressed ever since its commiencement to free himself from 
that bondage, as finding it quite insupportable, though can- 
didly acknowledging that no effort of duty or affection has been 
wanting on my part. He has too painfully convinced me that 
all these attempts to contribute towards his happiness were 
wholly useless, and most unwelcome to him, I enclose this 
letter to my father, wishing it to receive his sanction. 
" Ever yours most affectionately, 

" A. I. Byron." 

We observe in this letter that it is written to 
be sJioivn to Lady Byron's father, and receive his 
sanction ; and, as that father was in ignorance 
of all the deeper causes of trouble in the case, it 
will be seen that the letter must necessarily be 



CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY OF EVENTS. 29 1 

a reserved one. This sufficiently accounts for 
the guarded character of the language when 
speaking of the causes of separation. One part 
of the letter incidentally overthrows Lord By- 
ron's statement, which he always repeated dur- 
ing his life, and which is repeated for him now ; 
namely, that his wife forsook him, instead of 
being, as she claims, expelled by him. 

She recalls to Lord Byron's mind the " desire 
and determmation he has expressed ever since 
his marriage to free himself from its bondage." 

This is in perfect keeping with the " absolute 
desire," signified by writing, that she should 
leave his house on the earliest day possible ; 
and she places the cause of the separation on 
his having " too painfully " convinced her that 
he does not want her — as a wife. 

It appears that Augusta hesitates to show 
this note to her brother. It is bringing on a 
crisis which she, above all others, would most wish 
to avoid. 

In the mean time. Lady Byron receives a let- 



292 CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY OF EVENTS. 

ter from Lord Byron, which makes her feel it 
more than ever essential to make the decision 
final. I have reason to believe that this letter 
is preserved in Lady Byron's papers : — 

" Feb. 4, 1816. 
" I hope, my dear A,, that you would on no account withhold 
from your brother the letter which I sent yesterday in answer 
to yours written by his desire, particularly as one which I have 
received from himself to-day renders it still more important 
that he should know the contents of that addressed to you. I 
am, in haste and not very well, 

" Yours most affectionately, 

"A. I. Byron." 

The last of this series of letters is less like 
the style of Lady Byron than any of them. We 
cannot judge whether it is a whole consecutive 
letter, or fragments from a letter, selected and 
united. There is a great want of that clearness 
and precision which usually characterized Lady 
Byron's style. It shows, however, that the de- 
cision is made, — a decision which she regrets 
on account of the sister who has tried so long 
to prevent it. 



CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY OF EVENTS. 293 

'■ KiRKBY Mallory, Feb. 14, 1816. 
" The present sufferings of all may yet be repaid in bless- 
ings. Do not despair absolutely, dearest ; and leave me but 
enough of your interest to afford you any consolation by par- 
taking of that sorrow which I am most unhappy to cause thus 
unintentionally, Vou zvill be of my opinion hereafter ; and at 
present your bitterest reproach would be forgiven, though 
Heaven knows you have considered me more than a thousand 
would have done, — more than any thing but my affection for B., 
one most dear to you, could deserve. I must not remember 
these feelings. Farewell ! God bless you from the bottom of 
my heart ! " A. I. B." 



We are here to consider that Mrs. Leigh has 
stood to Lady Byron in all this long agony as 
her only confidante and friend ; that she has 
denied the charges i.^. brother has made, and 
referred them to insanity, admitting insane at- c 
tempts upon herself which she has been obliged 
to watch over and control. Uhs^v^r*^ usk^jk>^ , 

Lady Byron has come to the conclusion that 
Augusta is mistaken as to insanity ; that there 
is a real wicked purpose and desire on the part 
of the brother, not as yet believed in by the sis- 



l§ 



294 CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY OF EVENTS. 

ter. She regards the sister as one, who, though 
deceived and bhnded, is still worthy of confi- 
dence and consideration ; and so says to her, 
" Yotc will be of my opinion hereafterr 

She says, " You have considered me more 
than a thousand would have done." Mrs. Leigh 
is, in Lady Byron's eyes, a most abused and 
innocent woman, who, to spare her sister in her 
delicate situation, has taken on herself the whole 
charge of a maniacal brother, although suffering 
from him language and actions of the most inju- 
rious kind. That Mrs. Leigh did not flee the 
house at once under such circumstances, and 
wholly decline the management of the case, 
seems to Lady Byron consideration and self- 
sacrifice greater than she can acknowledge. 

The knowledge of the whole extent of the 
truth came to Lady Byron's mind at a later 
period. 

We now take up the history from Lushing- 
ton's letter to Lady Byron, published at the 
close of her statement. 



CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY OF EVENTS. 295 

The application to Lord Byron for an act of 
separation was positively refused at first ; it 
being an important part of his policy that all 
the responsibility and insistance should come 
from his wife, and that he should appear forced 
into it contrary to his will. 

Dr. Lushington, however, says to Lady By- 
ron, — 

" I was originally consulted by Lady Noel on your behalf 
while you were in the country. The circumstances detailed by 
her were such as justified a separation ; but they were not of 
that aggravated description as to render such a measure indis- 
pensable. On Lady Noel's representations, I deemed a 
reconciliation with Lord Byron practicable, and felt most sin- 
cerely a wish to aid in effecting it. There was not, on Lady 
Noel's part, any exaggeration of the facts, nor, so far as I 
could perceive, any determination to prevent a return to Lord 
Byron : certainly none was expressed when I spoke of a recon- 
ciliation." 

In this crisis, with Lord Byron refusing the 
separation, with Lushington expressing a wish 
to aid in a reconciliation, and Lady Noel not ex- 
pressing any aversion to it, the whole "strain of 



296 CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY OF EVENTS. 

the dreadful responsibility comes upon the wife. 
She resolves to ask counsel of her lawyer, in 
view of a statement of the zvJiole case. 

Lady Byron is spoken of by Lord Byron 
(letter 233) as being in town with her father on 
the 29th of February ; viz., fifteen days after the 
date of the last letter to Mrs. Leigh. It must 
have been about this time, then, that she laid 
her whole case before Lushington ; and he gave 
it a thorough examination. 

The result was, that Lushington expressed in 
the most decided terms his conviction that rec- 
onciliation was impossible. The language he 
uses is very striking : — 

" When you came to town in about a fortnight, or perhaps 
more, after my first interview with Lady Noel, I was, for the 
first time, informed by you of facts utterly unknown, as I have 
no doubt, to Sir Ralph and Lady Noel. On receiving this ad- 
ditional information, my opinion was entirely changed. I con- 
sidered a reconciliation impossible. I declared my opinion, 
and added, that, if such an idea should be entertained, I could 
not, either professionally or otherwise, take any part towards 
effecting it."* 



CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY OF EVENTS. 207 

It does not appear in this note what effect the 
lawyer's examination of the case had on Lady 
Byron's mind. By the expressions he uses, we 
should infer that she may still have been hesi- 
tating as to whether a reconciliation might not 
be her duty. 

This hesitancy he does away with most deci- 
sively, saying, " A reconciliation is impossible ; " 
and, supposing Lady Byron or her friends desi- 
rous of one, he declares positively that he can- 
not, either professionally as a lawyer or privately 
as a friend, have any thing to do with effect- 
ing it. 

The lawyer, it appears, has drawn, from the 
facts of the case, inferences deeper and stronger 
than those which presented themselves to the 
mind of the young woman ; and he instructs 
her in the most absolute terms. 

Fourteen years after, in 1830, for the first 
time the world was astonished by this declara- 
tion from Dr. Lushington, in language so pro- 
nounced and positive, that there could be no 
mistake. 



298 CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY OF EVENTS. 

Lady Byron had stood all these fourteen years 
slandered by her husband, and misunderstood 
by his friends, when, had she so chosen, this 
opinion of Dr. Lushington's could have been at 
once made public, which fully justified her con- 
duct. 

If, as the " Blackwood " of July insinuates, the 
story told to Lushington was a malignant slan- 
der, meant to injure Lord Byron, why did she 
suppress the judgment of her counsel at a time 
when all the world was on her side, and this 
decision would have been the decisive blow 
against her husband ? Why, by sealing the lips 
of counsel, and of all whom she could influence, 
did she deprive herself finally of the very advan- 
tage for which it has been assumed she fabri- 
cated the story ? 



CHAPTER IV. 

THE CHARACTER OF THE TWO WITNESSES 
COMPARED. 

T T will be observed, that, in this controversy, 
we are confronting two opposing stories, — 
one of Lord and the other of Lady Byron ; and 
the statements from each are in point-blank con- 
tradiction. 

Lord Byron states that his wife deserted him. 
Lady Byron states that he expelled her, and re- 
minds him, in her letter to Augusta Leigh, that 
the expulsion was a deliberate one, and that he 
had purposed it from the beginning of their 
marriage. 

Lord Byron always stated that he was ignorant 

why his wife left him, and was desirous of her 

return. Lady Byron states that he told her that 

he would force her to leave him, and to leave 

. 299 



300 THE CHARACTER OF THE 

him in such a way that the whole blame of the 
separation should always rest on her, and not 
on him. 

To say nothing of any deeper or darker accu- 
sations on either side, here, in the very outworks 
of the story, the two meet point-blank. 

In considering two opposing stories, we al- 
ways, as a matter of fact, take into account the 
character of the witnesses. 

If a person be literal and exact in his usual 
modes of speech, reserved, careful, conscientious, 
and in the habit of observing minutely the minor 
details of time, place, and circumstances, we give 
weight to his testimony from these considera- 
tions. But if a person be proved to have singular 
and exceptional principles with regard to truth ; 
if he be universally held by society to be so in 
the habit of mystification, that large allow- 
ances must be made for his statements ; if 
his assertions at one time contradict those 
made at another ; and if his statements, also, 
sometimes come in collision with those of his 



TWO WITNESSES COMPARED. 3OI 

best friends, so that, when his language is re- 
ported, difficulties follow, and explanations are 
made necessary, — all this certainly disqualifies 
him from being considered a trustworthy wit- 
ness. 

All these disqualifications belong in a remark- 
able degree to Lord Byron, on the oft-repeated 
testimony of his best friends. 

We shall first cite the following testimony, 
given in an article from " Under the Crown," 
which is written by an early friend and ardent 
admirer of Lord Byron : — 

" Byron had one pre-eminent fault, — a fault which must be 
considered as deeply criminal by every one who does not, as I 
do, believe it to have resulted from monomania. He had a 
morbid love of a bad reputation. There was hardly an offence 
of which he would not, with perfect indifference, accuse himself. 
An old schoolfellow who met him on the Continent told me 
that he would continually write paragraphs against himself in 
the foreign journals, and delight in their republication by the 
English newspapers as in the success of a practical joke. 
"Whenever anybody has related any thing discreditable of Byron, 
assuring me that it must be true, for he heard it from him- 



302 THE CHARACTER OF THE 

self, "I always felt that he could not have spoken upon worse 
authority ; and that, in all probability, the tale was a pure in- 
vention. If I could remember, and were willing to repeat, the 
various misdoings which I have from time to time heard him 
attribute to himself, I could fill a volume. But I never believed 
them. I very soon became aware of this strange idiosyncrasy : 
it puzzled me to account for it ; but there it was, a sort of dis- 
eased and distorted vanity. The same eccentric spirit would 
induce him to report things which were false with regard to his 
family, which anybody else would have concealed, though true. 
He told me more than once that his father was insane, and 
killed himself. I shall never forget the manner in which he 
first told me this. While washing his hands, and singing a gay 
Neapolitan air, he stopped, looked round at me, and said, 
'There always was madness in the family.' Then, after con- 
tinuing his washing and his song, he added, as if speaking of a 
matter of the slightest indifference, * My father cut his throat.' 
The contrast between the tenor of the subject and the levity of 
the expression was fearfully painful : it was like a stanza of 
* Don Juan.' In this instance, I had no doubt that the fact was 
as he related it ; but in speaking of it, only a few years since, 
to an old lady in whom I had perfect confidence, she assured me 
that it was not so. Mr Byron, who was her cousin, had been 
extremely wild, but was quite sane, and had died very quietly 
in his bed. What Byron's reason could have been for thus ca- 
lumniating not only himself, but the blood which was flowing in 
his veins, who can divine ? But, for some reason or other, it 



TWO WITNESSES COMPARED. 3O3 

seemed to be his determined purpose to keep himself unknown 
to the great body of his fellow-creatures ; to present himself to 
their view in moral masquerade." 

Certainly the character of Lord Byron here 
given by his friend is not the kind to make him 
a trustworthy witness in any case : on the con- 
trary, it seems to show either a subtle delight in 
falsehood for falsehood's sake, or else the wary 
artifices of a man, who, having a deadly secret 
to conceal, employs many turnings and windings 
to throw the world off the scent.' What in- 
triguer, having a crime to cover, could devise 
a more artful course than to send half a dozen 
absurd stories to the press, which should, after a 
while, be traced back to himself, till the public 
should gradually look on all it heard from him 
as the result of this eccentric humor ? 

The easy, trifling air with which Lord Byron 
made to this friend a false statement in regard 
to his father would lead naturally to the inquiry, 
on what ot/ier subjects, equally important to the 
good name of others, he might give false testi- 
mony with equal indifference. . ^ i 



304 THE CHARACTER OF THE 

When Medwin's " Conversations with Lord 
Byron " were first pubhshed, they contained a 
number of declarations of the noble lord affect- 
ing the honor and honesty of his friend and 
publisher Murray. These appear to have been 
made in the same way as those about his 
father, and with equal indifference. So serious 
were the charges, that Mr. Murray's friends felt 
that he ought, in justice to himself, to come for- 
ward and confront them with the facts as stated 
in Byron's letters to himself; and in vol. x., 
p. 143, of Murray's standard edition, accord- 
ingly, these false statements are confronted with 
the letters of Lord Byron. The statements, as 
reported, are of a most material and vital nature, 
relating to Murray's financial honor and honesty, 
and to his general truthfulness and sincerity. 
In reply, Murray opposes to them the accounts 
of sums paid for different works, and letters 
from Byron exactly contradicting his own state- 
ments as to Murray's character. 

The subject, as we have seen, was discussed 



TWO WITNESSES COMPARED. 305 

in " The Noctes." No doubt appears to be en- 
tertained that Byron made the statements to 
Medwin ; and the theory of accounting for them 
is, that '' Byron was ' bamming' him." 

It seems never to have occurred to any of 
these credulous gentlemen, who laughed at oth- 
ers for being " bammed," that Byron might be 
doing the very same thing by themselves. How 
many of his so-called packages sent to Lady 
Byron were real packages, and how many were 
mystifications 1 We find, in two places at least 
in his Memoir, letters to Lady Byron, written 
and shown to others, which, he says, were never 
sent by him. He told Lady Blessington that he 
was in the habit of writing to her constantly. 
Was this " bamming " } Was he *' bamming," 
also, when he told the world that Lady Byron 
suddenly deserted him, quite to his surprise, and 
that he never, to his dying day, could find out 
why } 

Lady Blessington relates, that, in one of his 
conversations with her, he entertained her by 



306 THE CHARACTER OF THE 

repeating epigrams and lampoons, in which 
many of his friends were treated with severity. 
She inquired of him, in case he should die, and 
such proofs of his friendship come before the 
public, what would be the feelings of these 
friends, who had supposed themselves to stand 
so high in his good graces. She says, — 

"'That,' said Byron, Ms precisely one of the ideas that 
most amuses me. I often fancy the rage and humihation of 
my quondam friends in hearing the truth, at least from me, for 
the first time, and when I am beyond the reach of their malice. 
. . . What grief,' continued Byron, laughing, ' could resist 
the charges of ugliness, dulness, or any of the thousand name- 
less defects, personal or mental, ' that flesh is heir to,' when 
reprisal or recantation was impossible ? . . . People are in 
such daily habits of commenting on the defects of friends, that 
they are unconscious of the unkindness of it. . . . Now, I 
write down as well as speak my sentiments of those who think 
they have gulled me ; and I only wish, in case I die before 
them, that I might return to witness the effects my posthumous 
opinions of them are likely, to produce in their minds. What 
good fun this would be ! . . . You don't seem to value this 
as you ought,' said Byron with one of his sardonic smiles, see- 
ing I looked, as I really felt, surprised at his avowed insincerity. 



TWO WITNESSES COMPARED. 307 

I feel the same pleasure in anticipating the rage and mor- 
tification of my soi-disant friends at the discovery of my real 
sentiments of them that a miser may be supposed to feel while 
making a will that will disappoint all the expectants that have 
been toadying him for years. Then how amusing it will be to 
compare my posthumous with my previously given opinions, 
the one throwing ridicule on the other ! ' " 

It is asserted, in a note to " The Noctes/' that 
Byron, besides his Autobiography, prepared 
a voluminous dictionary of all his friends and 
acquaintances, -in which brief notes of their 
persons and character were given, with his 
opinion of them. It was not considered that 
the publication of this would add to the noble 
lord's popularity ; and it has never appeared. 

In Hunt's Life of Byron, there is similar 
testimony. Speaking of Byron's carelessness 
in exposing his friends' secrets, and showing or 
giving away their letters, he says, — 

" If his five hundred confidants, by a reticence as remarkable 
as his laxity, had not kept his secrets better than he did him- 
self, the very devil might have been played with I don't know 
how many people. But there was always this saving reflection 



308 THE CHARACTER OF THE 

to be made, that the man who could be guilty of such extrava- 
gances for the sake of making an impression might be guilty 
of exaggeration, or inventing what astonished you ; and indeed, 
though he was a speaker of the truth on ordinary occasions, — 
that is to say, he did not tell you he had seen a dozen horses 
when he had seen only two, — yet, as he professed not to value 
the truth wdaen in the way of his advantage (and there was 
nothing he thought more to his advantage than making you 
stare at him), the persons who were liable to suffer from his 
incontinence had all the right in the world to the benefit of this 
consideration." * 

With a person of such mental and moral habits 
as to truth, the inquiry always must be, Where 
does mystification end, and truth begin ? 

If a man is careless about his father's reputa- 
tion for sanity, and reports him. a crazy suicide ; 
if he gayly accuses his publisher and good friend 
of double-dealing, shuffling, and dishonesty ; if 
he tells stories about Mrs. Clermont,! to which 

* Hunt's Byron, p. 77. Philadelphia, 1828. 

t From the Temple-Bar article, October, i860. " Mrs. Leigh, Lord 
Byron's sister, had other thoughts of Mrs Clermont, and wrote to her, offer- 
ing public testimony to her tenderness and forbearance under circumstances 
which must have been trying to any friend of Lady Byron." — Campbell, in 
the New Monthly Magazine, 1830, p. 380. 



TWO WITNESSES COMPARED. 309 

his sister offers a public refutation, — is it to be 
supposed that he will always tell the truth about 
his wife, when the world is pressing him hard, 
and every instinct of self-defence is on the alert? 

And then the ingenuity that could write and 
publish false documents about himself, that they 
might re-appear in London papers, — to what 
other accounts might it not be turned ? Might 
it not create documents, invent statements, 
about his wife as well as himself? 

The document so ostentatiously given to M. 
G. Lewis "for circulation among friends in Eng- 
land " was a specimen of what the Noctes Club 
would call " bamming." 

If Byron wanted a legal investigation, why 
did he not take it in the first place, instead of 
signing the separation ? If he wanted to cancel 
it, as he said in this document, why did he not 
go to London, and enter a suit for the restitution 
of conjugal rights, or a suit in chancery to get 
possession of his daughter ? That this was in 
his mind, passages in Medwin's Conversations 



310 THE CHARACTER OF THE 

show. He told Lady Blessington also that he 
might claim his daughter in chancery at any time. • 

Why did he not do it "^ Either of these two 
steps would have brought on that public inves- 
tigation he so longed for. Can it be possible 
that all the friends who passed this private docu- 
ment from hand to hand never suspected that 
they were being "bammed " by it.'* 

But it has been universally assumed, that 
though Byron was thus remarkably given to 
mystification, yet all his statements in regard to 
this story are to be accepted, simply because he 
makes them. Why must we accept them, any 
more than his statements as to Murray or his 
own father .-* 

So we constantly find Lord Byron's incidental 
statements coming in collision with those of oth- 
ers : for example, in his account of his marriage, 
he tells Med win that Lady Byron's maid was put 
between his bride and himself, on the same seat, 
in the wedding-journey. The lady's maid her- 
self, Mrs. Minns, says she was sent before them 

j'3»a «, £.-y ^^--y ««^ '^. ^y^ «^'^- ^ 
^-^,^ <uu^ c*«^«6 .c^^^ / <tr'^ 



TWO WITNESSES COMPARED. 3 I I 

to Halnaby, and was there to receive them 
when they alighted. 

He said of Lady Byron's mother, " She al- 
ways detested me, and had not the decency to 
conceal it in her own house. Dining with her 
one day, I broke a tooth, and was in great pain; 
which I could not help showing. ' It will do 
you good,' said Lady Noel. ' I am glad of it ! ' " 

Lady Byron says, speaking of her mother, 
" She always treated him with an affectionate 
consideration and indulgence, which extended 
to every little peculiarity of his feelings. Never 
did an irritating word escape her." 

Lord Byron states that the correspondence 
between him and Lady Byron, after his refusal, 
was first opened by her. Lady Byron's friends 
deny the statement, and assert that the direct 
contrary is the fact. 

Thus we see that Lord Byron's statements 
are directly opposed to those of his family in 
relation to his father ; directly against ^Murray's 
accounts, and his own admission to Murray ; 



312 THE CHARACTER OF THE 

directly against the statement of the lady's maid 
as to her position in the journey ; directly 
against Mrs. Leigh's as to Mrs. Clermont, and 
against Lady Byron as to her mother. 

We can see, also, that these misstatements 
were so fully perceived by the men of his times, 
that Medwin's Conversations were simply 
laughed at as an amusing instance of how far a 
man might be made the victim of a mystification. 
Christopher North thus sentences the book : — 

" I don't mean to call Medwin a liar, . . . The captain 
Iks, sir; but it is under a thousand mistakes. Whether Byron 
bammed him, or he, by virtue of his own egregious stupidity, 
was the sole and sufficient bammifier of himself, I know not ; 
neither greatly do I care. This much is certain, . . . that the 
book throughout is full of things that were not, and most re- 
splendently deficient ^uoad the. things that were." 

Yet it is on Medwin's Conversations alone that 
many of the magazine assertions in regard to 
Lady Byron are founded. 

* It is on that authority that Lady Byron is 
accused of breaking open her husband's writing- 



TWO WITNESSES COMPARED. 313 

desk in his absence, and sending the letters she 
found there to the husband of a lady compro- 
mised by them. ; and likewise that Lord Byron 
is declared to have paid back his wife's ten- 
thousand-pound wedding-portion, and doubled 
it. Moore makes no such statements ; and his 
remarks about Lord Byron's use of his wife's 
money are unmistakable evidence to the con- 
trary. Moore, although Byron's ardent partisan, 
was too well informed to make assertions with 
regard to him, which, at that time, it would have 
been perfectly easy to refute. 

All these facts go to show that Lord Byron's 
character for accuracy or veracity was not such 
as to entitle him to ordinary confidence as a 
witness, especially in a case where he had the 
strongest motives ibr misstatement. 

And if we consider that the celebrated Auto- 
biography was the finished, careful work of such 
a practised " mystifier," who can wonder that it 
presented a web of such intermingled truth and 
lies, that there was no such thing as disen- 



314 THE CHARACTER OF THE 

tangling it, and pointing out where falsehood 
ended, and truth began ? 

But, in regard to Lady Byron, what has been 
the universal impression of the world ? It has 
been alleged against her that she was a precise, 
straightforward woman, so accustomed to plain, 
literal dealings, that she could not understand 
the various mystifications of her husband ; and 
that from that cause arose her unhappiness. 
Byron speaks, in " The Sketch," of her peculiar 
truthfulness ; and even in the " Clytemnestra " 
poem, when accusing her of lying, he speaks of 
her as departing from 

" The early truth that was her proper praise." 

Lady Byron's careful accuracy as to dates, to 
time, place, and circumstances, will probably 
be vouched for by all the very large number of 
persons whom the management of her extended 
property and her works of benevolence brought 
to act as co-operators or agents with her. She 
was not a person in the habit of making exag- 



TWO WITNESSES COMPARED. 315 

gerated or ill-considered statements. Her pub- 
lished statement of 1830 is clear, exact, accurate, 
and perfectly intelligible. The dates are careful- 
ly ascertained and stated, the expressions are 
moderate, and all the assertions firm and perfect- 
ly definite. 

It therefore seems remarkable that the whole 
reasoning on this Byron matter has generally 
been conducted by assuming all Lord Byron's 
statements to be true, and requiring all Lady 
Byron's statements to be sustained by other 
evidence. 

If Lord Byron asserts that his wife deserted 
him, the assertion is accepted without proof; 
but, if Lady Byron asserts that he ordered her 
to leave, that requires proof. Lady Byron asserts 
that she took counsel, on this order of Lord 
Byron, with his family friends and physician, 
under the idea that it originated in insanity. 
The " Blackwood " asks, " What family friends 1 " 
says it doesn't know of any ; and asks proof 

If Lord Byron asserts that he always longed 



3l6 . THE CHARACTER OF THE 

for a public investigation of the charges against 
him, the *' Quarterly " and " Blackwood " quote 
the saying with ingenuous confidence. They 
are obliged to admit that he refused to stand 
that public test ; that he signed the deed of 
separation rather than meet it. They know, 
also, that he could have at any time instituted 
suits against Lady Byron that would have 
brought the whole matter into court, and that he 
did not. Why did he not .'^ The "Quarterly" 
simply intimates that such suits would have 
been unpleasant. Why ? On account of per- 
sonal delicacy ? The man that wrote " Don 
Juan," and furnished the details of his wedding- 
night, held back from clearing his name by 
delicacy ! It is astonishing to what extent this 
controversy has consisted in simply repeating 
Lord Byron's assertions over and over again, and 
calling the result proof 

Now, we propose a different course. As 
Lady Byron is not stated by her warm admirers 
to have had anj/ monomania for speaking un- 



TWO WITNESSES COMPARED. 317 

truths on any subject, we rank her vakie as a 
witness at a higher rate than Lord Byron's. 
She never accused her parents of madness or 
suicide, merely to make a sensation ; never 
" bammed " an acquaintance by false statements 
concerning the commercial honor of any one 
with whom she was in business relations ; never 
wrote and sent to the press as a clever jest false 
statements about herself; and never, in any 
other ingenious way, tampered with truth. We 
therefore hold it to be a mere dictate of reason 
and common sense, that, in all cases where her 
statements conflict with her husband's, hers are 
to be taken as the more trustworthy. 

" The London Quarterly," in a late article, 
distinctly repudiates Lady Byron's statements 
as sources of evidence, and throughout quotes 
statements of Lord Byron as if they had the 
force of self-evident propositions. We con- 
sider such a course contrary to common sense 
as well as common good manners. 

The state of the case is just this : If Lord 



3l8 THE CHARACTER OF THE 

Byron did not make false statements on this 
subject, it was certainly an exception to his 
usual course. He certainly did make such on a 
great variety of other subjects. By his own 
showing, he had a peculiar pleasure in falsify- 
ing language, and in misleading and betraying 
even his friends. 

But, if Lady Byron gave false witness upon 
this subject, it was an exception to the whole 
course of her life. 

The habits of her mind, the government of 
her conduct, her life-long reputation, all were 
those of a literal, exact truthfulness. 

The accusation of her being untruthful was 
first brought forward by her husband in the 
" Clytemnestra" poem, in the autumn of 1816; 
but it never was publicly circulated till after his 
death, and it was first formally made the basis 
of a published attack on Lady Byron in the July 
"Blackwood" of 1869. Up to that time, we 
look in vain through current literature for any 
indications that the world regarded Lady Byron 



TWO WITNESSES COMPARED. 319 

Otherwise than as a cold, careful, prudent wo- 
man, who made no assertions, and had no confi- 
dants. When she spoke in 1830, it is perfectly 
evident that Christopher North and his circle 
believed what she said, though reproving her for 
saying it at all. 

The " Quarterly " goes on to heap up a num- 
ber of vague assertions, — that Lady Byron, 
about the time of her separation, made a confidant 
of a young officer ; that she told the clergyman 
of Ham of some trials with Lord Ockham ; and 
that she told stories of different things at differ- 
ent times. 

All this is not proof: it is mere assertion, 
and assertion made to produce prejudice. It is 
like raising a whirlwind of sand to blind the 
eyes that are looking for landmarks. It is quite 
probable Lady Byron told different stories about 
Lord Byron at various times. No woman could 
have a greater variety of stories to tell ; and no 
woman ever was so persecuted and pursued 
and harassed, both by public literature and pri- 



320 THE CHARACTER OF THE 

vate friendship, to say something. She had 
plenty of causes for a separation, without the fatal 
and final one. In her conversations with Lady 
Anne Barnard, for example, she gives reasons 
enough for a separation, though none of them 
are the chief one. It is not different stories, 
but contradictory stories, that must be relied on 
to disprove the credibility of a witness. The 
" Quarterly " has certainly told a great number of 
different stories, — stories which may prove as 
irreconcilable with each other as any attributed 
to Lady Byron ; but its denial of all weight to 
her testimony is simply begging the whole ques- 
tion under consideration. 

A man gives testimony about the causes of a 
railroad accident, being the only eye-witness. 

The opposing counsel begs, whatever else you 
do, you will not admit that man's testimony. 
You ask, " Why } Has he ever been accused of 
want of veracity on other subjects .-* " — " No : he 
has stood high as a man of probity and honor 
for years." — " Why, then, throw out his testi- 
mony } '* 



TWO WITNESSES COMPARED. 32 1 

" Because he lies in this instance," says the 
adversary : " his testimony does not agree with 
this and that." — " Pardon me, that is the very 
point in question," say you : " we expect to prove 
that it does agree with this and that." 

Because certain letters of Lady Byron's do 
not agree with the "Quarterly's" theory of 
the facts of the separation, it at once assumes 
that she is an untruthful witness, and proposes 
to throw out her evidence altogether. 

We propose, on the contrary, to regard Lady 
Byron's evidence with all the attention due to 
the statement of a high-minded, conscientious 
person, never in any other case accused of vio- 
lation of truth ; we also propose to show it to 
be in strict agreement with all well-authenti- 
cated facts and documents ; and we propose to 
treat Lord Byron's evidence as that of a man of 
great subtlety, versed in mystification and de- 
lighting in it, and who, on many other subjects, 
not only deceived, but gloried in deception ; 
and then we propose to show that it contra- 



322 THE CHARACTER OF THE 

diets well-established facts and received docu- 
ments. 

One thing more we have to say concerning 
the laws of evidence in regard to documents 
presented in this investigation. 

This is not a London West-End affair, but a 
grave historical inquiry, in which the whole 
English-speaking world are interested to know 
the truth. 

As it is now too late to have the securities of 
a legal trial, certainly the rules of historical 
evidence should be strictly observed. All im- 
portant documents should be presented in an 
entire state, with a plain and open account of 
their history, — who had them, where they were 
found, and how preserved. 

There have been most excellent, credible, and 
authentic documents produced in this case ; and, 
as a specimen of them, we shall mention Lord 
Lindsay's letter, and the journal and letter it 
authenticates. Lord Lindsay at once comes 
forward, gives his name boldly, gives the history 



TWO WITNESSES COMPARED. 323 

of the papers he produces, shows how they came 
to be in his hands, why never produced before, 
and why now. We feel confidence at once. 

But, in regard to the important series of letters 
presented as Lady Byron's, this obviously proper 
course has not been pursued. Though assumed 
to be of the most critical importance, no such 
distinct history of them was given in the first 
instance. The want of such evidence being 
noticed by other papers, the " Quarterly " ap- 
pears hurt that the high character of the maga- 
zine has not been a sufficient guaranty ; and 
still deals in vague statements that the letters 
have been freely circulated, and that two noble- 
men of the highest character would vouch for 
them if necessary. 

In our view, it is necessary. These noblemen 
should imitate Lord Lindsay's example, -^ give 
a fair account of these letters, under their own 
names ; and then, we would add, it is needful for 
complete satisfaction to have the letters entirey 
and not in fragments. 



324 THE TWO WITNESSES COMPARED. 

The " Quarterly " gave these letters with the 
evident implication that they are entirely de- 
structive to Lady Byron's character as a wit- 
ness. Now, has that magazine much reason 
to be hurt at even an insinuation on its own 
character when making such deadly assaults on 
that of another ? The individuals who bring 
forth documents that they suppose to be deadly 
to the character of a noble person, always in her 
generation held to be eminent for virtue, cer- 
tainly should not murmur at being called upon 
to substantiate these documents in the manner 
usually expected in historical investigations. 

We have shown that these letters do not con- 
tradict, but that they perfectly confirm the facts, 
and agree with the dates in Lady Byron's pub- 
lished statements of 1830; and this is our 
reason for deeming them authentic. 

These considerations with regard to the man- 
ner of conducting the inquiry seem^ so obviously 
proper, that we cannot but believe that they will 
command a serious attention. 



CHAPTER V. 

THE DIRECT ARGUMENT TO PROVE THE CRIME. 

^T TE shall now proceed to state the argu- 
ment against Lord Byron. 

1st, There is direct evidence that Lord Byron 
was guilty of some unusual immorality. 

The evidence is not, as the " Blackwood " 
says, that Lushington yielded assent to the ex 
parte statement of a client ; nor, as the " Quar- 
terly" intimates, that he was affected by the 
charms of an attractive young woman. 

The first evidence of it is the fact that 
Lushington and Romilly offered to take the 
case into court, and make thei^e a public exJiibi- 
tion of the proofs on which their convictions 
were founded. 

2d, It is very strong evidence of this fact, 



326 THE DIRECT ARGUMENT 

that Lord Byron, while loudly declaring that he 
wished to know with what he was charged, de- 
clined this open investigation, and, rather than 
meet it, signed a paper which he had before 
refused to sign. 

3d, It is also strong evidence of this fact, that 
although secretly declaring to all his intimate 
friends that he still wished open investigation in 
a court of justice, and affirming his belief that 
his character was being ruined for want of it, he 
never afterwards took the means to get it. In- 
stead of writing a private handbill, he might 
have come to England and entered a suit ; and 
he did not do it. 

That Lord Byron was conscious of a great 
crime is further made probable by the pecuhar 
malice he seemed to bear to his wife's legal 
counsel. 

If there had been nothing to fear in that legal 
investigation wherewith they threatened him, 
why did he not only flee from it, but regard with 
a peculiar bitterness those who advised and pro- 



TO PROVE THE CRIME. 32/ 

posed it ? To an innocent man falsely accused, 
the certainties of law are a blessing and a ref- 
uge. Female charms cannot mislead in a court 
of justice ; and the atrocities of rumor are there 
sifted, and deprived of power. A trial is not a 
threat to an innocent man : it is an invitation, 
an opportunity. Why, then, did he hate Sir 
Samuel Romilly, so that he exulted like a 
fiend over his tragical death ? The letter in 
which he pours forth this malignity was so 
brutal, that Moore was obliged, by the general 
outcry of society, to suppress it. Is this the lan- 
guage of an innocent man who has been offered 
a fair trial under his country's laws ? or of a guil- 
ty man, to whom the very idea of public trial 
means public exposure ? 

4th, It is probable that the crime was the one 
now alleged, because that was the most impor- 
tant crime charged against him by rumor at 
the period. This appears by the following ex- 
tract of a letter from Shelley, furnished by the 
"Quarterly," dated Bath, Sept. 29, 1816: — 



328 THE DIRECT ARGUMENT 

" I saw Kinnaird, and had a long talk with him. He informed 
me that Lady Byron was now in perfect health ; that she was 
living with your sister. I felt much pleasure from this intelli- 
gence. I consider the latter part of it as affording a decisive 
contradiction to the only important calumny that ever was ad- 
vanced against you. On this ground, at lekst, it will become 
the world hereafter to be silent." 

It appears evident here that the charge of 
improper intimacy with his sister was, in the 
mind of Shelley, the only important one that 
had yet been made against Lord Byron. 

It is fairly inferable, from Lord Byron's own 
statements, that his family friends believed this 
charge. Lady Byron speaks, in her statement, 
of " nearest relatives " and family friends who 
were cognizant of Lord Byron's strange conduct 
at the time of the separation ; and Lord Byron, 
in the letter to Bowles, before quoted, says that 
every one of his relations, except his sister, fell 
from him in this crisis like leaves from a tree in 
autumn. There was, therefore, not only this 
report, but such appearances in support of it as 



TO PROVE THE CRIME. 329 

convinced those nearest to the scene, and best 
apprised of the facts ; so that they fell from him 
entirely, notwithstanding the strong influence of 
family feeling. The Guiccioli book also men- 
tions this same allegation as having arisen from 
peculiarities in Lord Byron's manner of treating 
his sister : — 

" This deep, fraternal affection assumed at times, under the 
influence of his powerful genius, and under exceptional circum- 
stances, an almost too passionate expression, which opened a 
fresh field to his enemies." * 

It appears, then, that there was nothing in the 
character of Lord Byron and of his sister, as 
they appeared before their generation, that pre- 
vented such a report from arising : on the con- 
trary, there was something in their relations that 
made it seem probable. And it appears that 
his own family friends were so affected by it, 
that they, with one accord, deserted him. The 
" Quarterly " presents the fact, that Lady Byron 
went to visit Mrs. Leigh at this time, as triumph- 

* My Recollections, p. 238. 



330 THE DIRECT ARGUMENT 

ant proof that she did not then believe it. Can 
the "Quarterly" show just what Lady Byron's 
state of mind was, or what her motives were, in 
making that visit ? 

The "Quarterly" seems to assume, that no 
woman, without gross hypocrisy, can stand by 
a sister proven to have been guilty. We can 
appeal on this subject to all women. We fear- 
lessly ask any wife, " Supposing your husband 
and sister were involved together in an infamous 
crime, and that you were the mother of a young 
daughter whose life would be tainted by a knowl- 
edge of that crime, what would be your wish ? 
Would you wish to proclaim it forthwith ? or 
would you wish quietly to separate from your 
husband, and to cover the crime from the eye 
of man ? " 

It has been proved that Lady Byron did not 
reveal this even to her nearest relatives. It is 
proved that she sealed the mouths of her coun- 
sel, and even of servants, so effectually, that they 
remain sealed even to this day. This is evidence 



TO PROVE THE CRIME. 33 1 

that she did not wish the thing known. It is 
proved also, that, in spite of her secrecy with 
her parents and friends, the rumor got out, and 
was spoken of by Shelley as the only important 
one. 

Now, let us see how this note, cited by the 
" Quarterly," confirms one of Lady Byron's own 
statements. She says to Lady Anne Barnard, — 

" I trust you understand my wishes, which never were to 
injure Lord Byron in any way : for, though he -looitld not suffer 
me to remain his wife, he cannot prevent me from continning his 
friend ; and it zvas from considering myself as such that Isilejiced 
the accttsations by which my own conduct might have been more 
fully justified.'''' 

How did Lady Byron silence accusations f 
First, by keeping silence to her nearest relatives ; 
second, by shutting the mouths of servants ; 
third, by imposing silence on her friends, — as 
Lady Anne Barnard ; fourth, by silencing her 
legal counsel ; fifth, and most entirely, by 
treating Mrs. Leigh, before the world, with un- 
altered kindness. In the midst of the rumors, 



332 THE DIRECT ARGUMENT 

Lady Byron went to visit her ; and Shelley says 
that the movement was effectual. Can the 
" Quarterly" prove, that, at this time, Mrs. Leigh 
had not confessed all, and thrown herself on 
Lady Byron's mercy ? 

It is not necessary to suppose great horror 
and indignation on the part of Lady Byron. 
She may have regarded her sister as the victim 
of a most singularly powerful tempter. Lord 
Byron, as she knew, had tried to corrupt her own 
morals and faith. He had obtained a power over 
some women, even in the highest circles in Eng- 
land, which had led them to forego the usual 
decorums of their sex, and had given rise to 
great scandals. He was a being of wonderful 
personal attractions. He had not only strong 
poetical, but also strong logical power. He was 
daring in speculation, and vigorous in sophistical 
argument ; beautiful, dazzling, and possessed of 
magnetic power of fascination. His sister had 
been kind and considerate to Lady Byron when 
Lord Byron was brutal and cruel. She had been 



TO PROVE THE CRIME. 333 

overcome by him, as a weaker nature sometimes 
sinks under the force of a stronger one ; and 
Lady Byron may really have considered her to 
be more sinned against than sinning. 

Lord Byron, if we look at it rightly, did not 
corrupt Mrs. Leigh any more than he did the 
whole British public. They rebelled at the im- 
morality of his conduct and the obscenity of his 
writings ; and he resolved that they should ac- 
cept both. And he made them do it. At first, 
they execrated " Don Juan." Murray was afraid 
to publish it. Women were determined not to 
read it. In 1819, Dr. William Maginn of the 
Noctes wrote a song against it in the following 
virtuous strain : — 

" Be ' Juan,' then, unseen, unknown ; 

It must, or we shall rue it. 
We may have virtue of our own : 

Ah ! why should we undo it ? 
The treasured faith of days long past 

We still would prize o'er any. 
And grieve to hear the ribald jeer 

Of scamps like Don Giovanni." 



334 THE DIRECT ARGUMENT 

Lord Byron determined to conquer the virtu- 
ous scruples of the Noctes Club ; and so we find 
this same Dr. William Maginn, who in 1819 
wrote so valiantly, in 1822 declaring that he would 
rather have written a page of " Don Juan " than 
a ton of " Childe Harold." All English morals 
were, in like manner, formally surrendered to 
Lord Byron. Moore details his adulteries in 
Venice with unabashed particularity : artists 
send for pictures of his principal mistresses ; the 
literary world call for biographical sketches 
of their points ; Moore compares his wife and his 
last mistress in a neatly-turned sentence ; and 
yet the professor of morals in Edinburgh Uni- 
versity recommends the biography as pure, and 
having no mud in it. The mistress is lion- 
ized in London, and in 1869 i^ introduced to 
the world of letters by " Blackwood," and bid, 
" without a blush, to say she loved " — 

This much being done to all England, it is 
quite possible that a woman like Lady Byron, 
standing silently aside and surveying the course 



TO PROVE THE CRIME. 335 

of things, may have thought that Mrs. Leigh 
was no more seduced than all the rest of the 
world, and have said, as we feel disposed to say 
of that generation, and of a good many in this, 
" Let him that is without sin among you cast 
the first stone." 

The peculiar bitterness of remorse expressed 
in his works by Lord Byron is a further evi- 
dence that he had committed an unusual crime. / 

1 
We are aware that evidence cannot be drawn \ 

in this manner from an author's works merely, 
if unsupported by any external probability. For j 
example, the subject most frequently and power- \ 
fully treated by Hawthorne is the influence of a 
secret, unconfessed crime on the soul : neverthe- 
less, as Hawthorne is well known to have al- / 
ways lived a pure and regular life, nobody has ever 
suspected him of any greater sin than a vigorous 
imagination. But here is a man believed guilty 
of an uncommon immorality by the two best 
lawyers in England, and threatened with an 
open exposure, which he does not dare to meet. 



336 THE DIRECT ARGUMENT 

The crime is named in society; his own relations 
fall away from him on account of it ; it is only 
set at rest by the heroic conduct of his wife. 
Now, this man is stated by many of his friends 
to have had all the appearance of a man se- 
cretly laboring under the consciousness of crime, 
Moore speaks of this propensity in the following 
language : — 

" I have known him more than once, as we sat together after 
dinner, and he was a little under the influence of wine, to fall 
seriously into this dark, self-accusing mood, and throw out 
hints of his past life with an air of gloom and mystery designed 
evidently to awaken curiosity and interest." 

Moore says that it was his own custom to dis- 
pel these appearances by ridicule, to which his 
friend was keenly alive. And he goes on to 
say, — 

" It has sometimes occurried to nte, that the occult causes of ^ 
his lady's separation from him, round which herself and her , 
legal adviser have thrown such formidable mystery, may have f 
been nothing more than some imposture of this kind, some 
dimly-hinted confession of undefined horror, which, though in- 



TO PROVE THE CRIME. 33/ 

tended by the relater to mystify and surprise, the hearer so little 
understood as to take in sober seriousness." * 

All we have to say is, that Lord Byron's con- 
duct in this respect is exactly what might have 
been expected if he had a crime on his con- 
science. 

The energy of remorse and despair expressed 
in " Manfred " were so appalling and so vividly 
personal, that the belief was universal on the 
Continent that the experience was wrought out 
of some actual crime. Goethe expressed this 
idea, and had heard a murder imputed to Byron 
as the cause. 

The allusion to the crime and consequences 
of incest is so plain in " Manfred," that it is 
astonishing that any one can pretend, as Gait 
does, that it had any other application. 

The hero speaks of the love between himself 
and the imaginary being whose spirit haunts 
him as having been the deadliest sitiy and one 

* Vol. vi. p. 242. 



338 THE DIRECT ARGUMENT 

that has, perhaps, caused her eternal destruc- 
tion : — 

" What is she now ? A sufferer for my sins ; 
A thing I dare not think upon." 

He speaks of her blood as haunting him, and 
as being 

" My blood, — the pure, warm stream 
That ran in the veins of my fathers, and in ours 
When we were in our youth, and had one heart, 
And loved each other as we should not love." 

This work was conceived in the commotion of 
mind immediately following his separation. The 
scenery of it was sketched in a journal sent to 
his sister at the time. 

In letter i^y, defending the originality of the 
conception, and showing that it did not arise 
from reading " Faust," he says, - 

" It was the Steinbach and the Jungfrau, and something else, 
more than Faustus, that made me write ' Manfred.' " 

In letter 288, speaking of the various accounts 
given by critics of the origin of the story, he 
says, — 



TO PROVE THE CRIME. 339 

" The conjecturer is out, and knows nothing of the matter. 
I had a better origin than he could devise or divine for the soul 
of him." 

In letter 299, he says, — 

" As to the germs of ' Manfred,' they may be found in the 
journal I sent to Mrs. Leigh, part of which you saw." 

It may be said, plausibly, tkat Lord Byron, if 
conscious of this crime, would not have expressed 
it in his poetry. But his nature was such, that 
he could not help it. Whatever he wrote that 
had any real power was generally wrought out 
of self ; and, when in a tumult of emotion, he 
could not help giving glimpses of the cause. It 
appears that he did know that he had been ac- 
cused of incest, and that Shelley thought that 
accusation the only really important one ; and 
yet, sensitive as he was to blame and reproba- 
tion, he ran upon this very subject most likely 
to re-awaken scandal. 

But Lord Byron's strategy was always of the 
bold kind. It was the plan of the fugitive, who, 
instead of running away, stations himself so near 



340 THE DIRECT ARGUMENT 

to danger, that nobody would ever think of look- 
ing for him there. He published passionate 
verses to his sister, on this principle. He imi- 
tated the security of an innocent man in every 
thing but the unconscious energy of the agony 
which seized him when he gave vent to his nature 
in poetry. The boldness of his strategy is evident 
through all his life. He began by charging his 
wife with the very cruelty and deception which 
he was himself practising. He had spread a 
net for her feet, and he accused her of spreading 
a net for his. He had placed her in a position 
where she could not speak, and then leisurely 
shot arrows at her ; and he represented her as 
having done the same by him. When he at- 
tacked her in " Don Juan," and strove to take 
from her the very protection* of womanly sacred- 
ness by putting her name into the mouth of every 
ribald, he did a bold thing, and he knew it. He 
meant to do a bold thing. There was a general 

* The reader is here referred to the remarks of " Blackwood " on " Don 
Juan" in Part III. 



TO PROVE THE CRIME. 34I 

outcry against it ; and he fought it down, and 
gained his point. By sheer boldness and perse- 
verance, he turned the public from his wife, and 
to himself, in the face of their very groans and 
protests. His "Manfred" and his "Cain" were 
parts of the same game. But the involuntary cry 
of remorse and despair pierced even through his 
own artifices, in a manner that produced a con- 
viction of reality. 

His evident fear and hatred of his wife were 
other symptoms of crime. There was no ap- 
parent occasion for him to hate her. He ad- 
mitted that she had been bright, amiable, good, 
agreeable ; that her marriage had been a very un- 
comfortable one ; and he said to Madame de Stael, 
that he did not doubt she thought him deranged. 
Why, then, did he hate her for wanting to live 
peaceably by herself 1 Why did he so fear her, 
that not one year of his life passed without his 
concocting and circulating some pubhc or 
private accusation against her.? She, by his 
own showing, published none against him. It 



342 THE DIRECT ARGUMENT 

is remarkable, that, in all his zeal to represent 
himself injured, he nowhere quotes a single re- 
mark from Lady Byron, nor a story coming either 
directly or indirectly from her or her family. 
He is in a fever in Venice, not from what she has 
spoken, but because she has sealed the lips of 
her counsel, and because she and her family do 
not speak : so that he professes himself utterly 
ignorant what form her allegations against him 
may take. He had heard from Shelley that his 
wife silenced the most important calumny by 
going to make Mrs. Leigh a visit ; and yet he is 
afraid of her, — so afraid, that he tells Moore he 
expects she will attack him after death, and 
charges him to defend his grave. 

Now, if Lord Byron knew that his wife had a 
deadly secret that she could tell, all this conduct 
is explicable : it is in the ordinary course of 
human nature. Men always distrust those who 
hold facts by which they can be ruined. They 
fear them ; they are antagonistic to them ; 
they cannot trust them. The feeling of Falk- 



TO PROVE THE CRIME. 343 

land to Caleb Williams, as portrayed in God- 
win's masterly sketch, is perfectly natural ; and it 
is exactly illustrative of what Byron felt for his 
wife. He hated her for having his secret ; and, 
so far as a human being could do it, he tried to 
destroy her character before the world, that she 
might not have the power to testify against him. 
If we admit this solution, Byron's conduct is at 
least that of a man who is acting as men ordi- 
narily would act under such circumstances : if 
we do not, he is acting like a fiend. Let us 
look at admitted facts. He married his wife 
without love, in a gloomy, melancholy, mo- 
rose state of mind. The servants testify to 
strange, unaccountable treatment of her imme- 
diately after marriage ; such that her confidential 
maid advises her return to her parents. In Lady 
Byron's letter to Mrs. Leigh, she reminds Lord 
Byron that he always expressed a desire and 
determination to free himself from the marriage. 
Lord Byron himself admits to Madame de Stael 
that his behavior was such, that his wife must 



344 THE DIRECT ARGUMENT 

have thought him insane. Now, we are asked to 
beheve, that simply because, under these circum- 
stances, Lady Byron wished to Hve separate from 
her husband, he hated and feared her so that he 
could never let her alone afterward ; that he 
charged her with malice, slander, deceit, and 
deadly intentions against himself, merely out of 
spite, because she preferred not to live with him. 
This last view of the case certainly makes Lord 
Byron more unaccountably wicked than the 
other. 

The first supposition shows him to us as a 
man in an agony of self-preservation ; the sec- 
ond as a fiend, delighting in gratuitous deceit 
and cruelty. 

Again : the evidence of this crime appears in 
Lord Byron's admission, in a letter to Moore, 
that he had an illegitimate child born before he 
left England, and still living at the time. 

In letter 307, to Mr. Moore, under date Ven- 
ice, Feb. 2, 1818, Byron says, speaking of 
Moore's loss of a child, — 



TO PROVE THE CRIME. 345 

" I know how to feel with you, because I am quite wrapped 
up in my own children. Besides my little legitimate, I have 
made unto myself an illegitimate since [since Ada's birth], to 
say nothing of one before ; and I look forward to one of these 
as the pillar of my old age, supposing that I ever reach, as I 
hope I never shall, that desolating period." 

The illegitimate child that he had made to 
himself since Ada's birth was Allegra, born 
about nine or ten months after the separation. 
The other illegitimate alluded to was born be- 
fore, and, as the reader sees, was spoken of as 
still living. 

Moore appears to be puzzled to know who 
this child can be, and conjectures that it may 
possibly be the child referred to in an early 
poem, written, while a schoolboy of nineteen, at 
Harrow. - 

On turning back to the note referred to, we 
find two things : first, that the child there men- 
tioned was not claimed by Lord Byron as his 
own, but that he asked his mother to care for it 
as belonging to a schoolmate now dead ; sec- 



346 THE DIRECT ARGUMENT 

ond, that the infant died shortly after, and, con- 
sequently, could not be the child mentioned in 
this letter. 

Now, beside this fact, that Lord Byron admit- 
ted a living illegitimate child born before Ada, 
we place this other fact, that there was a child 
in England which was believed to be his by 
those who had every opportunity of knowing. 

On this subject we shall cite a passage from 
a letter recently received by us from England, 
and written by a person who appears well in- 
formed on the subject of his letter : — 

" The fact is, the incest was first committed, and the child of 
it born before^ shortly before, the Byron marriage. The child 
(a daughter) must not be confounded with the natural daughter 
of Lord Byron, born about a year after his separation. 

" The history, more or less, of that child of incest, is known 
to many; for in Lady Byron's attempts to watch over her, and 
rescue her from ruin, she was compelled to employ various 
agents at different times." 

This letter contains a full recognition, by an 
intelUgent person in England, of a child corre- 



TO PROVE THE CRIME. 347 

spending well with Lord Byron's declaration of 
an illegitimate, born before he left England. 

Up to this point, we have, then, the circum- 
stantial evidence against Lord Byron as fol- 
lows : — 

A good and amiable woman, who had married 
him from love, determined to separate from him. 

Two of the greatest lawyers of England con- 
firmed her in this decision, and threatened Lord 
Byron, that, unless he consented to this, they 
would expose the evidence against him in a 
suit for divorce. He fled from this exposure, 
and never afterwards sought public investiga- 
tion. 

He was angry with and malicious toward the 
counsel who supported his wife ; he was angry at 
and afraid of a wife who did nothing to injure him, 
and he made it a special object to defame and de- 
grade her. He gave such evidence of remorse 
and fear in his writings as to lead eminent 
literary men to believe he had committed a great 
crime. The public rumor of his day specified 



34^ THE DIRECT ARGUMENT 

\ 

what the crime was. His relations, by his own 
showing, joined against him. The report was 
silenced by his wife's efforts only. Lord Byron 
subsequently declares the existence of an illegiti- 
mate child, born before he left England. Cor- 
responding to this, there is the history, known in 
England, of a child believed to be his, in whom 
his wife took an interest. 

All these presumptions exist independently 
of any direct testimony from Lady Byron. They 
are to be admitted as true, whether she says a 
word one way or the other. 

From this background of proof, I come for- 
ward, and testify to an interview with Lady By- 
ron, in which she gave me specific information 
of the facts in the case. That I report the 
facts just as I received them from her, not 
altered or misremembered, is shown by the 
testimony of my sister, to whom I related them 
at the time. It cannot, then, be denied that I 
had this interview, and that this communication 
was made. I therefore testify that Lady Byron, 



TO PROVE THE CRIME. 349 

for a proper purpose, and at a proper time, 
stated to me the following things : — 

I. That the crime which separated her from 
Lord Byron was incest. 2. That she first dis- 
covered it by improper actions towards his 
sister, which, he meant to make her understand, 
indicated the guilty relation. 3. That he ad- 
mitted it, reasoned on it, defended it, tried to 
make her an accomplice, and, failing in that, 
hated her and expelled her. 4. That he threat- 
ened her that he would make it his life's object 
to destroy her character. 5. That for a period 
she was led to regard this conduct as insanity, 
and to consider him only as a diseased person. 
6. That she had subsequent proof that the facts 
were really as she suspected ; that there had 
been a child born of the crime, whose history 
she knew ; that Mrs. Leigh had repented. 

The purpose for which this was stated to me 
was to ask. Was it her duty to make the truth 
fully known during her lifetime t 

Here, then, is a man believed guilty of an 



350 THE DIRECT ARGUMENT 

unusual crime by two lawyers, the best in Eng- 
land, who have seen the evidence, — a man who 
dares not meet legal investigation. The crime 
is named in society, and deemed so far probable 
to the men of his generation as to be spoken 
of by Shelley as the only important allegation 
against him. He acts through life exactly like a 
man struggling with remorse, and afraid of de- 
tection ; he has all the restlessness and hatred 
and fear that a man has who feels that there is 
evidence which might destroy him. He admits 
an illegitimate child besides Allegra. A child 
believed to have been his is known to many in 
England. Added to all this, his widow, now 
advanced in years, and standing on the borders 
of eternity, being, as appears by her writings 
and conversation, of perfectly sound mind at 
the time, testifies to me the facts before named, 
which exactly correspond to probabilities. 

I publish the statement ; and the solicitors 
who hold Lady Byron's private papers do not 
deny the truth of the story. They try to cast 



TO PROVE THE CRIME. 35I 

discredit on me for speaking ; but they do not say 
that I have spoken falsely, or that the story is not 
true. The lawyer who knew Lady Byron's story 
in 1 8 16 does not now deny that this is the true 
one. Several persons in England testify, that 
at various times, and for various purposes, the 
same story has been told to them. Moreover, 
it appears from my last letter addressed to Lady 
Byron on this subject that I recommended her 
to leave all necessary papers in the hands of 
some discreet persons, who, after both had passed 
away, should see that justice was done. The 
solicitors admit that Lady Byron has left sealed 
papers of great importance in the hands of trus- 
tees, with discretionary power. I have been 
informed very directly that the nature of these 
documents was such as to lead to the suppres- 
sion of Lady Byron's life and writings. This 
is all exactly as it would be, if the story related 
by Lady Byron were the true one. 

The evidence under this point of view is so 
strong, that a great effort has been made to 
throw out Lady Byron's testimony. 



352 THE DIRECT ARGUMENT 

This attempt has been made on two grounds. 
1st, That she was under a mental hallucination. 
This theory has been most ably refuted by the 
very first authority in England upon the sub- 
ject. He says, — 

" No person practically acquainted with the true characteris- 
tics of insanity would affirm, that, had this idea of ' incest ' been 
an insane hallucination, Lady Byron could, from the lengthened 
period which intervened between her unhappy marriage and 
death, have refrained from exhibiting it, not only to legal ad- 
visers and trustees (assuming that she revealed to them the 
fact), but to others, exacting no pledge of secrecy from them as 
to her mental impressions. Lunatics do for a time, and for 
some special purpose, most cunningly conceal their delusions ; 
but they have not the capacity to struggle for thirty-six years, as 
Lady Byron must have done, with so frightful an hallucination, 
without the insane state of mind becoming obvious to those 
with whom they are daily associating. Neither is it consistent 
with experience to suppose, that, if Lady Byron had been a 
monomaniac, her state of disordered understanding would have 
been restricted to one hallucination. Her diseased brain, af- 
fecting the normal action of thought, would, in all probability, 
have manifested other symptoms besides those referred to of 
aberration of intellect. 

" During the last thirty years, I have not met with a case of 



TO PROVE THE CRIME. 353 

insanity (assuming the hypothesis of hallucination) at all par- 
allel with that of Lady Byron. In my experience, it is unique. 
I never saw a patient with such a delusion." 

We refer our readers to a careful study 
of Dr. Forbes Winslow's consideration of this 
subject given on p. 458 of our Part III. Any 
one who has been familiar with the delicacy 
and acuteness of Dr. Winslow, as shown in his 
work on obscure diseases of the brain and 
nerves, must feel that his positive assertion on 
this ground is the best possible evidence. We 
here gratefully acknowledge our obligations to 
Dr. Winslow for the corrected proof of his 
valuable letter, which he has done us the honor 
to send for this work. We shall consider that 
his argument, in connection with what the 
reader may observe of Lady Byron's own writ- 
ings, closes that issue of the case completely. 

The other alternative is, that Lady Byron 

deliberately committed false witness. This was 

the ground assumed by the " Blackwood," when 

in July, 1869, it took upon itself the responsi- 
23 



354 THE DIRECT ARGUMENT 

bility of re-opening the Byron controversy. It 
is also the ground assumed by " The London 
Quarterly" of to-day. 

Both say, in so many words, that no crime was 
imputed to Lord Byron ; that the representa- 
tions made to Lushington in the beginning 
were false ones ; and that the story told to Lady 
Byron's confidential friends in later days was 
also false. 

Let us examine this theory. In the first place, 
it requires us to believe in the existence of a 
moral monster, of whom Madame Brinvilliers is 
cited as the type. The " Blackwood," let it be 
remembered, opens the controversy with the 
statement that Lady Byron was a Madame 
Brinvilliers. The " Quarterly " does not shrink 
from the same assumption. 

Let us consider the probability of this ques- 
tion. 

If Lady Byron were such a woman, and 
wished to ruin her husband's reputation in order 
to save her own, and, being perfectly unscrupu- 



TO PROVE THE CRIME. 355 

lous, had circulated against him a -story of un- 
natural crime which had no proofs, how came 
two of the first lawyers of England to assume 
the responsibility of offering to present her case 
in open court ? How came her husband, if he 
knew himself guiltless, to shrink from that pub- 
lic investigation which must have demonstrated 
his innocence ? Most astonishing of all, when 
he fled from trial, and the report got abroad 
against him in England, and was believed even 
by his own relations, why did not his wife avail 
herself of the moment to complete her vic- 
tory ? If at that moment she had publicly 
broken with Mrs. Leigh, she might have con- 
firmed every rumor. Did she do it ^ and why 
not ? According to the " Blackwood," we have 
here a woman who^has made up a frightful story 
to ruin her husband's reputation, yet who takes 
every pains afterward to prevent its being ruined. 
She fails to do the very thing she undertakes ; 
and for years after, rather than injure him, she 
loses public sympathy, and, by sealing the lips 



356 THE DIRECT ARGUMENT 

of her legal* counsel, deprives herself of the ad- 
vantage of their testimony. 

Moreover, if a desire for revenge could have been 
excited in her, it would have been provoked by the 
first publication of the fourth canto of *'Childe 
Harold," when she felt that Byron was attacking 
her before the world. Yet we have Lady Anne 
Barnard's testimony, that, at this time, she was so 
far from wishing to injure him, that all her commu- 
nications were guarded by cautious secrecy. At 
this time, also, she had a strong party in England, 
to whom she could have appealed. Again : when 
" Don Juan " was first printed, it excited a vio- 
lent re-action against Lord Byron. Had his wife 
chosen then to accuse him, and display the evi- 
dence she had shown to her counsel, there is 
little doubt that all the world would have stood 
with her ; but she did not. After his death, 
when she spoke at last, there seems little doubt, 
from the strength of Dr. Lushington's language, 
that Lady Byron had a very strong case, and 
that, had she been willing, her counsel could have 



TO PROVE THE CRIME. 35/ 

told much more than he did. She might then 
have told her whole story, and been believed. 
Her word was believed by Christopher North, 
and accepted as proof that Byron had been a 
great criminal. Had revenge been her motive; 
she could have spoken the one word more 
that North called for. 

The " Quarterly " asks why she waited till 
everybody concerned was dead. There is an 
obvious answer. Because, while there was any- 
body living to whom the testimony would have 
been utterly destructive, there were the best 
reasons for withholding it. When all were gone 
from earth, and she herself was in constant expec- 
tation of passing away, there was a reason, and 
a proper one, why she should speak. By nature 
and principle truthful, she had had the oppor- 
tunity of silently watching the operation of a 
permitted lie upon a whole generation. She had 
been placed in a position in which it was neces- 
sary, by silence, to allow the spread and propaga- 
tion through society of a radical falsehood. Lord 



358 THE DIRECT ARGUMENT 

Byron's life, fame, and genius had all struck their 
roots into this lie, been nourished by it, and had 
derived thence a poisonous power. 

In reading this history, it will be remarked 
•that he pleaded his personal misfortunes in his 
marriage as excuses for every offence against 
morality, and that the literary world of England 
accepted the plea, and tolerated and justified the 
crimes. Never before, in England, had adultery 
been spoken of in so respectful a manner, and 
an adulteress openly praised and feted, and ob- 
scene language and licentious images publicly 
tolerated ; and all on the plea of a man's private 
misfortunes. 

There was, therefore, great force in the sug- 
gestion made to Lady Byron, that she owed a 
testimony in this case to truth and justice, irre- 
spective of any- personal considerations. There 
is no more real reason for allowing the spread of 
a hurtful falsehood that affects ourselves than 
for allowing one that affects our neighbor. 
This falsehood had corrupted the literature and 



TO PROVE THE CRIME. 359 

morals of both England and America, and led to 
the public toleration, by respectable authorities, 
of forms of vice at first indignantly rejected. 
The question was, Was this falsehood to go on 
corrupting literature as long as history lasted ? 
Had the world no right to true history ? Had 
she who possessed the truth no responsibility 
to the world ? Was not a final silence a con- 
firmation of a lie with all its consequences ? 

This testimony of Lady Byron, so far from 
being thrown out altogether, as the " Quarterly" 
proposes, has a peculiar and specific value from 
the great forbearance and reticence which char- 
acterized the greater part of her life. 

The testimony of a person who has shown 
in every action perfect friendliness to another 
comes with the more weight on that account. 
Testimony extorted by conscience from a parent 
against a child, or a wife against a husband, 
where all the other actions of the life prove the 
existence of kind feeling, is held to be the 
strongest form of evidence. 



360 THE DIRECT ARGUMENT 

The fact that Lady Byron, under the severest 
temptations and the bitterest insults and inju- 
ries, withheld every word by which Lord Byron 
could be criminated, so long as he and his sister 
were living, is strong evidence, that, when she 
did speak, it was not under the influence of ill- 
will, but of pure conscientious convictions ; and 
the fullest weight ought, therefore, to be given 
to her testimony. 

We are asked now w^hy she ever spoke at all. 
The fact that her story is known to several per- 
sons in England is brought up as if it were a 
crime. To this we answer, Lady Byron had an 
undoubted moral right to have exposed the 
whole story in a public court in 18 16, and thus 
cut herself loose from her husband by a divorce. 
For the sake of saving her husband and sister 
from destruction, she waived this right to self- 
justification, and stood for years a silent sufferer 
under calumny and misrepresentation. She de- 
sired nothing but to retire from the whole sub- 
ject ; to be permitted to enjoy with her child the 



TO PROVE THE CRIME. 361 

peace and seclusion that belong to her sex. Her 
husband made her, through his life and after his 
death, a subject of such constant discussion, that 
she must either abandon the current literature 
of her day, or run the risk of reading more or 
less about herself in almost every magazine of 
her time. Conversations with Lord Byron, notes 
of interviews with Lord Byron, journals of time 
spent with Lord Byron, were constantly spread 
before the public. Leigh Hunt, Gait, Medwin, 
Trelawney, Lady Blessington, Dr. Kennedy, and 
Thomas Moore, all poured forth their memo- 
rials ; and in all she figured prominently. All 
these had their tribes of reviewers and critics, 
who also discussed her. The profound mystery 
of her silence seemed constantly to provoke in- 
quiry. People could not forgive her for not 
speaking. Her privacy, retirement, and silence 
were set down as coldness, haughtiness, and 
contempt of human sympathy. She was con- 
stantly challenged to say something : as, for ex- 
ample, in the *' Noctes " of November, 1825, six 



362 THE DIRECT ARGUMENT 

months after Byron's death, Christopher North 
says, speaking of tlie burning of the Autobiog- 
raphy,— 

" I think, since the Memoir was burned by these people, 
these people are bound to put us in possession of the best evi- 
dence they still have the power of producing, in order that 
we may come to a just conclusion as to a subject upon which, 
by their act, at least, as much as by any other people's act, we 
are compelled to consider it our duty to make up our deliberate 
opinion, — deliberate and decisive. Woe be to those who pro- 
voke this curiosity, and will not allay it ! Woe be to them ! 
say I. Woe to them ! says the world." 

When Lady Byron pubHshed her statement, 
which certainly seemed called for by this lan- 
guage, Christopher North blamed her for doing 
it, and then again said that she ought to go on 
and tell the whole story. If she was thus ad- 
jured to speak, blamed for speaking, and adjured 
to speak further, all in one breath, by public 
prints, there is reason to think that there could 
not have come less solicitation from private 
sources, — from friends who had access to her 



TO PROVE THE CRIME. 363 

at all hours, whom she loved, by whom she was 
beloved, and to whom her refusal to explain 
might seem a breach of friendship. Yet there 
is no evidence on record, that we have seen, 
that she ever had other confidant than her legal 
counsel, till after all the actors in the events 
were in their graves, and the daughter, for whose 
sake largely the secret was guarded, had fol- 
lowed them. 

Now, does any one claim, that because a woman 
has sacrificed for twenty years all cravings for 
human sympathy, and all possibility of perfectly 
free and unconstrained intercourse with her 
friends, that she is obliged to go on bearing this 
same lonely burden to the end of her days ? 

Let any one imagine the frightful constraint 
and solitude implied in this sentence. Let any 
one, too, think of its painful complications in 
life. The roots of a falsehood are far-reaching. 
Conduct that can only be explained by criminat- 
ing another must often seem unreasonable and 
unaccountable ; and the most truthful person, 



364 THE DIRECT ARGUMENT 

who feels bound to keep silence regarding a 
radical lie of another, must often be placed in 
positions most trying to conscientiousness. The 
great merit of " Caleb Williams " as a novel con- 
sists in its philosophical analysis of the utter 
helplessness of an innocent person who agrees 
to keep the secret of a guilty one. One sees 
there how that necessity of silence produces all 
the effect of falsehood on his part, and deprives 
him of the confidence and sympathy of those 
with whom he would take refuge. 

For years, this unnatural life was forced on 
Lady Byron, involving her as in a network, even 
in her dearest family relations. 

That, when all the parties were dead, Lady 
Byron should allow herself the sympathy of a 
circle of intimate friends, is something so per- 
fectly proper and natural, that we cannot but 
wonder that her conduct in this respect has ever 
been called in question. If it was her right 
to have had a public expose in 18 16, it was 
certainly her right to show to her own intimate 



TO PROVE THE CRIME. 365 

circle the secret of her Hfe when all the principal 
actors were passed from earth. 

The " Quarterly " speaks as if, by thus waiting, 
she deprived Lord Byron of the testimony of 
living witnesses. But there were as many wit- 
nesses and partisans dead on her side as on his. 
Lady Milbanke and Sir Ralph, Sir Samuel Rom- 
illy and Lady Anne Barnard, were as much dead 
as Hobhouse, Moore, and others of Byron's par- 
tisans. 

The " Quarterly " speaks of Lady Byron as 
" running round, and repeating her story to peo- 
ple mostly below her own rank in life." 

To those who know the personal dignity of 
Lady Byron's manners, represented and dwelt 
on by her husband in his conversations with 
Lady Blessington, this coarse and vulgar attack 
only proves the poverty of a cause which can 
defend itself by no better weapons. 

Lord Byron speaks of his wife as " highly cul- 
tivated ; " as having " a degree of self-control I 
never saw equalled." 



;^66 THE DIRECT ARGUMENT 

"I am certain," he says, "that Lady Byron's first idea is 
what is due to herself : I mean that it is the undeviating rule 
of her conduct, . . . Now, my besetting sin is a want of that 
self-respect which she has in excess. . . . But, though I 
accuse Lady Byron of an excess of self-respect, I must, in 
candor, admit, that, if any person ever had excuse for an ex- 
traordinary portion of it, she has ; as, in all her thoughts, words, 
and actions, she is the most decorous woman that ever 
existed." 

This is the kind of woman who has lately 
been accused in the public prints as a babbler 
of secrets and a gossip in regard to her private 
difficulties with children, grandchildren, and ser- 
vants. It is a fair specimen of the justice that 
has generally been meted out to Lady Byron. 

In 1836, she was accused of having made a 
confidant of Campbell, on the strength of 
having written him a note declining to give him 
any information, or answer any questions. In 
July, 1869, she was denounced by " Blackwood " 
as a Madame Brinvilliers for keeping such 
perfect silence on the matter of her husband's 
character ; and, in the last " Quarterly," she is 



TO PROVE THE CRIME. 36/ 

spoken of as a gossip "running round, and 
repeating her story to people below her in 
rank." 

While we are upon this subject, we have a 
suggestion to make. John Stuart Mill says 
that utter self-abnegation has been preached to 
women as a peculiarly feminine virtue. It is 
true ; but there is a moral limit to the value of 
self-abnegation. 

It is a fair question 'for the moralist, whether 
it is right and proper wholly to ignore one's 
personal claims to justice. The teachings of 
the Saviour give us warrant for submitting to 
personal injuries ; but both the Saviour and 
St. Paul manifested bravery in denying false 
accusations, and asserting innocence. 

Lady Byron was falsely accused of having 
ruined the man of his generation, and caused 
all his vices and crimes, and all their evil effects 
on society. She submitted to the accusation 
for a certain number of years for reasons which 
commended themselves to her conscience ; but 



^68 THE DIRECT ARGUMENT 

when all the personal considerations were re- 
moved, and she was about passing from life, it 
was right, it was just, it was strictly in accord- 
ance with the philosophical and ethical character 
of her mind, and with her habit of considering all 
things in their widest relations to the good of 
mankind, that she should give serious attention 
and consideration to the last duty which she 
might owe to abstract truth and justice in her 
generation. 

In her letter on the religious state of Eng- 
land, we find her advocating an absolute frank- 
ness in all religious parties. She would have all 
openly confess those doubts, which, from the best 
of motives, are usually suppressed ; and believed, 
that, as a result of such perfect truthfulness, a 
wider love would prevail among Christians. This 
shows the strength of her conviction of the 
power and the importance of absolute truth ; 
and shows, therefore, that her doubts and con- 
scientious inquiries respecting her duty on this 
subject are exactly what might have been ex- 



TO PROVE THE CRIME. 369 

pccted from a person of her character and prin- 
ciples. 

Having thus shown that Lady Byron's testi- 
mony is the testimony of a woman of strong 
and sound mind, that it was not given from 
malice nor ill-will, that it was given at a proper 
time and in a proper manner, and for a purpose 
in accordance with the most elevated moral 
views, and that it is co-incident with all thg 
established facts of this history, and furnishes a 
perfect solution of every mystery of the case, we 
think we shall carry the reader with us in say- 
ing that it is to be received as absolute truth. 

This conviction we arrive at while as yet we 

are deprived of the statement prepared by Lady 

Byron, and the proof by which she expected to 

sustain it ; both which, as we understand, are 

now in the hands of her trustees. 
24 



CHAPTER VI. 

PHYSIOLOGICAL ARGUMENT. 

'nr^HE credibility of the accusation of the 
unnatural crime charged to Lord Byron is 
greater than if charged to most men. He was 
born of parents both of whom were remark- 
able for perfectly ungoverned passions. There 
appears to be historical evidence that he was 
speaking literal truth when he says to Medwin 
of his father, — 

" He would have made a bad hero for Hannah More. He 
ran out three fortunes, and married or ran away with three 
women. . . . He seemed born for his own ruin and that of the 
other sex. He began by seducing Lady Carmarthen, and spent 
her four thousand pounds ; and, not content with one adventure 
of this kind, afterwards eloped with Miss Gordon." — Medwin 'j- 
Conversations, P- 3I> 
370 



PHYSIOLOGICAL ARGUMENT. 371 

Lady Carmarthen here spoken of was the 
mother of Mrs. Leigh. Miss Gordon became 
Lord Byron's mother. 

By his own account, and that of Moore, she 
was a passionate, ungoverned, though affection- 
ate woman. Lord Byron says to Medwin, — 

" I lost my father when I was only six years of age. My 
mother, when she was in a passion with me (and I gave her 
cause enough), used to say, " O you little dog ! you are a Byron 
all over ! you are as bad as your father ! " — Ibid.., p. 31. 

By all the accounts of his childhood and early 
youth, it is made apparent that ancestral causes 
had sent him into the world with a most peril- 
ous and exceptional sensitiveness of brain and 
nervous system, which it would have required 
the most judicious course of education to direct 
safely and happily. 

Lord Byron often speaks as if he deemed 
himself subject to tendencies which might ter- 
minate in insanity. The idea is so often men- 
tioned and dwelt upon in his letters, journals. 



372 PHYSIOLOGICAL ARGUMENT. 

and conversations, that we cannot but ascribe 
it to some very peculiar experience, and not to 
mere affectation. 

But, in the history of his early childhood and 
youth, we see no evidence of any original male- 
formation of nature. We see only evidence 
of one of those organizations, full of hope and 
full of peril, which adverse influences might 
easily drive to insanity, but wise physiological 
training and judicious moral culture might have 
guided to the most splendid results. But of 
these he had neither. He was alternately the 
pet and victim of his mother's tumultuous na- 
ture, and equally injured both by her love and 
her anger. A Scotch maid of religious charac- 
ter gave him early serious impressions of reli- 
gion, and thus added the element of an awakened 
conscience to the conflicting ones of his char- 
acter. 

Education, in the proper sense of the word, did 
not exist in England in those days. Physiologi- 
cal considerations of the influence of the body 



PHYSIOLOGICAL ARGUMENT. 373 

on the soul, of the power of brain and nerve over 
moral development, had then not even entered 
the general thought of society. The school and 
college education literally taught him nothing 
but the ancient classics, of whose power in 
exciting and developing the animal passions 
Byron often speaks. 

The morality of the times is strikingly exem- 
plified even in its literary criticism. 

For example : One of Byron's poems, written 
while a schoolboy at Harrow, is addressed to 
" My Son." Mr. Moore, and the annotator of 
the standard edition of Byron's poems, gravely 
give the public their speculations on the point, 
whether Lord Byron first became a father 
while a schoolboy in Harrow ; and go into par- 
ticulars in relation to a certain infant, the claim 
to which lay between Lord Byron and another 
schoolfellow. It is not the nature of the event 
itself, so much as the cool, unembarrassed man- 
ner in which it is discussed, that gives the im- 
pression of the state of public morals. There 



374 PHYSIOLOGICAL ARGUMENT. 

is no intimation of any thing unusual, or discred- 
itable to the school, in the event, and no appar- 
ent suspicion that it will be regarded as a serious 
imputation on Lord Byron's character. 

Modern physiological developments would lead 
any person versed in the study of the recip- 
rocal influence of physical and moral laws to 
anticipate the most serious danger to such an 
organization as Lord Byron's, from a precocious 
development of the passions. Alcoholic and 
narcotic stimulants, in the case of such a person, 
would be regarded as little less than suicidal, 
and an early course of combined drinking 
and licentiousness as tending directly to estab- 
lish those unsound conditions which lead towards 
moral insanity. Yet not only Lord Byron's tes- 
timony, but every probability from the license of 
society, goes to show that this was exactly what 
did take place. 

Neither restrained by education, nor warned 
by any correct physiological knowledge, nor held 
in check by any public sentiment, he drifted 
directly upon the fatal rock. 



PHYSIOLOGICAL ARGUMENT. 375 

Here we give Mr. Moore full credit for all his 
abatements in regard to. Lord Byron's excesses 
in his early days. Moore makes the point very 
strongly, that he was not, de facto, even so bad as 
many of his associates ; and we agree with him. 
Byron's physical organization was originally as 
fine and as sensitive as that of the most dehcate 
woman. He possessed the faculty of moral ideali- 
ty in a high degree ; and he had not, in the earlier 
part of his life, an attraction towards mere brutal 
vice. His physical sensitiveness was so remark- 
able, that he says of himself, "A dose of salts 
has the effect of a temporary inebriation, like 
light champagne, upon me." Yet this excep- 
tionally delicately-organized boy and youth was 
in a circle where not to conform to the coarse 
drinking-customs of his day was to incur cen- 
sure and ridicule. That he early acquired the 
power of bearing large quantities of liquor is 
manifested by the record in his Journal, that, on 
the day when he read the severe " Edinburgh " 
article upon his schoolboy poems, he drank 
three bottles of claret at a sitting. 



376 PHYSIOLOGICAL ARGUMENT. 

Yet Byron was so far superior to his times, 
that some vague impulses to physiological pru- 
dence seem to have suggested themselves to 
him, and been acted upon with great vigor. He 
never could have lived so long as he did, under 
the exhaustive process of every kind of excess, 
if he had not re-enforced his physical nature by 
an assiduous care of his muscular system. He 
took boxing-lessons, and distinguished himself 
in all athletic exercises. 

He also had periods in which he seemed to 
try vaguely to retrieve himself from dissipation, 
and to acquire self-mastery by what he called 
temperance. 

But, ignorant and excessive in all his move- 
ments, his very efforts at temperance were in- 
temperate. From violent excesses in eating 
and drinking, he would pass to no less unnatural 
periods of utter abstinence. Thus the very 
conservative power which Nature has of adapt- 
ing herself to any settled course was lost. The 
extreme sensitiveness produced by long periods 



PHYSIOLOGICAL ARGUMENT. 377 

of utter abstinence made the succeeding debauch 
more maddening and fatal. He was like a fine 
musical instrument, whose strings were every 
day alternating between extreme tension and 
perfect laxity. We have in his Journal many 
passages, of which the following is a speci- 
men : — 

" I have dined regularly to-day, for the first time since Sun- 
day last ; this being sabbath too, — all the rest, tea and dry 
biscuits, six per die?n. I wish to God I had not dined, now I 
It kills me with heaviness, stupor, and horrible dreams ; and 
yet it was but a pint of bucellas, and fish. Meat I never touch, 
nor much vegetable diet. I wish I were in the country, to take 
exercise, instead of being obliged to cool by abstinence, in lieu 
of it. I should not so much mind a little accession of flesh : 
my bones can well bear it. But the worst is, the Devil always 
came with it, till I starved him out ; and I will not be the 
slave of any appetite. If I do err, it shall be my heart, at 
least, that heralds the way. O my head ! how it aches ! The 
horrors of digestion f I wonder how Bonaparte's dinner 
agrees with him." — Moore's Life, vol. ii. p. 264. 

From all the contemporary history and litera- 
ture of the times, therefore, we have reason to 



37S PHYSIOLOGICAL ARGUMENT. 

believe that Lord Byron spoke the exact truth 
when he said to Medwin, — • 

" My own master at an age when I most required a guide, 
left to the dominion of my passions when they wer'e the strong- 
est, with a fortune anticipated before I came into possession of 
it, and a constitution impaired by early excesses, I commenced 
my travels, in 1809, with a joyless indifference to the world and 
all that was before me." — Medwin'' s Conversations, p. 42. 

Utter prostration of the whole physical man 
from intemperate excess, the deadness to temp- 
tation which comes from utter exhaustion, was 
his condition, according to himself and Moore, 
when he first left England, at twenty-one years 
of age. 

In considering his subsequent history, we are 
to take into account that it was upon the brain 
and nerve-power, thus exhausted by early excess, 
that the draughts of sudden and rapid literary 
composition began to be made. There was 
something unnatural and unhealthy in the ra- 
pidity, clearness, and vigor with which his va- 
rious works followed each other. Subsequently 



PHYSIOLOGICAL ARGUMENT. 379 

to the first two cantos of " Childe Harold," " The 
Bride of Abydos," ''The Corsair," "The Giaour," 
" Lara," " Parisina," and " The Siege of Corinth," 
all followed close upon each other, in a space 
of less than three years, and those the three 
most critical years of his life. " The Bride of 
Abydos" came out in the autumn of 1813, and 
was written in a week ; and " The Corsair " was 
composed in thirteen days. A few months 
more than a year before his marriage, and the 
brief space of his married life, was the period in 
which all this literary labor was performed, while 
yet he was running the wild career of intrigue 
and fashionable folly. He speaks of " Lara " as 
being tossed off in the intervals between mas- 
querades and balls, &c. It is with the physical 
results of such unnatural efforts that we have 
now chiefly to do. Every physiologist would 
say that the demands of such poems on a healthy 
brain, in that given space, must have been ex- 
hausting ; but when we consider that they were 
checks drawn on a bank broken by early extrav- 



38o PHYSIOLOGICAL ARGUMENT. 

agance, and that the subject was prodigally 
spending vital forces in every other direction at 
the same time, one can scarcely estimate the 
physiological madness of such a course as Lord 
Byron's. 

It is evident from his Journal, and Moore's 
account, that any amount of physical force 
which was for the time restored by his first for- 
eign travel was recklessly spent in this period^, 
when he threw himself with a mad recklessness 
into London society in the time just preceding 
his marriage. The revelations made in Moore's 
Memoir of this period are sad enough : those 
to Medwin are so appalling as to the state of 
contemporary society in England, as to require, 
at least, the benefit of the doubt for which Lord 
Byron's habitual carelessness of truth gave 
scope. His adventures with ladies of the high- 
est rank in England are there paraded with a 
freedom of detail that respect for womanhood 
must lead every woman to question. The only 
thing that is unquestionable is, that Lord Byron 



PHYSIOLOGICAL ARGUMENT. 38 1 

made these assertions to Medwin, not as re- 
morseful confessions, but as relations of his 
bonnes fortunes, .and that Medwin published 
them in the very face of the society to which 
they related. 

When Lord Byron says, " I have seen a great 
deal of ItaHan society, and swum in a gondola ; 
but nothing could equal the profligacy of high 
life in England . . . when I knew it," he 
makes certainly strong assertions, if we remem- 
ber what Mr. Moore reveals of the harem kept 
in Venice. 

But when Lord Byron intimates that three 
married women in his own rank in life, who 
had once held illicit relations with him, made 
wedding-visits to his wife at one time, we must 
hope that he drew on his active imagination, 
as he often did, in his statements in regard to 
women. 

When he relates at large his amour with Lord 
Melbourne's wife, and represents her as pursu- 
ing him with an insane passion, to which he 



382 PHYSIOLOGICAL ARGUMENT. 

with difficulty responded ; and when he says that 
she tracked a rival lady to his lodgings, and 
came into them herself, disguised as a carman, 
— one Jiopcs that he exaggerates. And what are 
we to make of passages like this ? — 

" There was a lady at that time, double my own age, the 
mother of several children who were perfect angels, with whom 
I formed a liaison that continued without interruption for eight 
months. She told me she was never in love till she was thirty, 
and I thought myself so with her when she was forty. I never 
felt a stronger passion, which she returned with equal ardor. . . . 

" Strange as it may seem, she gained, as all women do, an 
influence over me so strong, that I had great difficulty in break- 
ing with her." * 

Unfortunately, these statements, though prob- 
ably exaggerated, are, for substance, borne out in 
the history of the times. With every possible 
abatement for exaggeration in these statements, 
there remains still undoubted evidence • from 
other sources that Lord Byron exercised a most 
peculiar and fatal power over the moral sense of 
the women with whom he was brought in re- 



PHYSIOLOGICAL ARGUMENT. 383 

lation ; and that love for him, in many women, 
became a sort of insanity, depriving them of the 
just use of their faculties. All this makes his 
fatal history both possible and probable. 

Even the article in " Blackwood," written in 
1825 for the express purpose of vindicating his 
character, admits that his name had been 
coupled with those of three, four, or more 
women of rank, whom it speaks of as "licen- 
tious, unprincipled, characterless women." 

That such a course, in connection with alter- 
nate extremes of excess and abstinence in eating 
and drinking, and the immense draughts on the 
brain-power of rapid and brilliant composition, 
should have ended in that abnormal state in 
which cravings for unnatural vice give indica- 
tions of approaching brain-disease, seems only 
too probable. 

This symptom of exhausted vitality becomes 
often a frequent type in periods of very corrupt 
society. The dregs of the old Greek and Ro- 
man civilization were foul with it ; and the 



384 PHYSIOLOGICAL ARGUMENT. 

apostle speaks of the turning of the use of 
the natural into that which is against nature, as 
the last step in abandonment. 

The very literature of such periods marks 
their want of physical and moral soundness. 
Having lost all sense of what is simple and nat- 
ural and pure, the mind delights to dwell on 
horrible ideas, which give a shuddering sense of 
guilt and crime. All the writings of this fatal 
period of Lord Byron's life are more or less in- 
tense histories of unrepentant guilt and remorse 
or of unnatural crime. A recent writer in 
" Temple Bar " brings to light the fact, that 
" The Bride of Abydos," the first of the brilliant 
and rapid series of poems which began in the 
period immediately preceding his marriage, was, 
in its first composition, an intense story of love 
between a brother and sister in a Turkish ha- 
rem ; that Lord Byron declared, in a letter to 
Gait, that it was drawn from real life ; that, in 
compliance with the prejudices of the age, he 
altered the relationship to that of cousins before 
publication. 



PHYSIOLOGICAL ARGUMENT. 385 

This same writer goes on to show, by a series 
of extracts from Lord Byron's published letters 
and journals, that his mind about this time was 
in a fearfully unnatural state, and suffering sin- 
gular and inexplicable agonies of remorse ; that, 
though he was accustomed fearlessly to confide 
to his friends immoralities which would be 
looked upon as damning, there was now a secret 
to which he could not help alluding in his let- 
ters, but which he told Moore he could not tell 
now, but " some day or other when we are 
veterans^ He speaks of his heart as eating 
itself out ; of a mysterious persoit, whom he says, 
" God knows I love too well, and the Devil prob- 
ably too. He wrote a song, and sent it to Moore, 
addressed to a partner in some awful guilt, 
whose very name he dares not mention, because 

" There is grief in the sound, there is guilt in the fame." 

He speaks of struggles of remorse, of efforts 
at repentance, and returns to guilt, with a sort 
of horror very different from the well-pleased 



386 PHYSIOLOGICAL ARGUMENT. 

air with which he relates to Medwin his com- 
mon intrigues and adulteries. He speaks of 
himself generally as oppressed by a frightful, un- 
natural gloom and horror, and, when occasionally 
happy, " not in a way that can or otight to last." 

" The Giaour," " The Corsair," " Lara," " Pari- 
sina," " The Siege of Corinth," and " Man- 
fred," all written or conceived about this period 
of his life, give one picture of a desperate, 
despairing, unrepentant soul, whom suffering 
maddens, but cannot reclaim. 

In all these he paints only the one woman, of 
concentrated, unconsidering passion, ready to 
sacrifice heaven and defy hell for a guilty man, 
beloved in spite of religion or reason. In this 
unnatural literature, the stimulus of crime is 
represented as intensifying love. Medora, Gul- 
nare, the Page in ** Lara," Parisina, and the lost 
sister of Manfred, love the more intensely 
because the object of the love is a criminal, out- 
lawed by God and man. The next step beyond 
this is — madness. 



PHYSIOLOGICAL ARGUMENT. 38/ 

The work of Dr. Forbes Winslow on "Ob- 
scure Diseases of the Brain and Nerves " * con- 
tains a passage so very descriptive of the case 
of Lord Byron, that it might seem to have been 
written for it. The sixth chapter of his work, 
on " Anomalous and Masked Affections of the 
Mind," contains, in our view, the only clew that 
can unravel the sad tragedy of Byron's life. He 
says, p. ^"j, — 

*' These forms of unrecognized mental disorder are not 
always accompanied by any well-marked disturbance of the 
bodily health requiring medical attention, or any obvious de- 
parture from a normal state of thought and conduct such a» 
to justify legal interference; neither do these affections always 
incapacitate the party from engaging in the ordinary business 
of life. . . . The change may have progressed insidiously and 
stealthily, having slowly and almost imperceptibly induced 
important molecular modifications in the delicate vesicular 
neurine of the brain, ultimately resulting in some aberration of 
the ideas, alteration of the affections, or perversion of the pro- 
pensities or instincts. . . . 

'* Mental disorder of a dangerous character has been known 

* The article in question is worth a careful reading. Its industry and 
accuracy in amassing evidence are worthy attention. 



388 PHYSIOLOGICAL ARGUMENT. 

for years to be stealthily advancing, without exciting the 
slightest notion of its presence, until some sad and terrible 
catastrophe, homicide, or suicide, has painfully awakened 
attention to its existence. Persons suffering from latent 
insanity often affect singularity of dress, gait, conversation, and 
phraseology. The most trifling circumstances stimulate their 
excitability. They are martyrs to ungovernable paroxysms of 
passion, are inflamed to a state of demoniacal fury by the most 
insignificant of causes, and occasionally lose all sense of 
delicacy of feeling, sentiment, refinement of manners and con- 
versation. Such manifestations of undetected mental disorder 
may be seen associated with intellectual and moral qualities of 
the highest order." 

In another place, Dr. Winslow again adverts 
to this latter symptorn, which was strikingly- 
marked in the case of Lord Byron : — 

" All delicacy and decency of thought are occasionally 
banished from the mind, so effectually does the principle of 
thought in these attacks succumb to the animal instincts and 
passions. ... 

" Such cases will commonly be found associated with organic 
predisposition to insanity or cerebral disease. . . . Modifica- 
tions of the malady are seen allied with genius. The biogra- 
phies of Cowper, Burns, Byron, Johnson, Pope, and Haydon, 



PHYSIOLOGICAL ARGUMENT. 389 

establish that the most exalted intellectual conditions do not 
escape unscathed. 

" In early childhood, this form of mental disturbance may, in 
many cases, be detected. To its existence is often to be traced 
the motiveless crimes of the young." 

No one can compare this passage of Dr. 
Forbes Winslow with the incidents we have 
already cited as occurring in that fatal period 
before the separation of Lord and Lady Byron, 
and not feel that the hapless young wife was in- 
deed struggling with those inflexible natural 
laws, which, at some stages of retribution, in- 
volve in their awful sweep the guilty with the 
innocent. She longed to save ; but he was 
gone past redemption. Alcoholic stimulants 
and licentious excesses, without doubt, had 
produced those unseen changes in the brain, of 
which Dr. Forbes Winslow speaks ; and the re- 
sults were terrible in proportion to the peculiar 
fineness and delicacy of the organism deranged. 

Alas ! the history of Lady Byron is the his- 
tory of too many women in every rank of life 



390 PHYSIOLOGICAL ARGUMENT. 

who are called in agonies of perplexity and fear 
to watch that gradual process by which physical 
excesses change the organism of the brain, till 
slow, creeping, moral insanity comes on. The 
woman who is the helpless victim of cruelties 
which only unnatural states of the brain could 
invent ; who is heart-sick to-day, and dreads to- 
morrow, — looks in hopeless horror on the fatal 
process by which a lover and a protector changes 
under her eyes, from day to day, to a brute and 
a fiend. 

Lady Byron's married life — alas ! it is lived 
over in many a cottage and tenement-house, 
with no understanding on either side of the 
woful misery. 

Dr. Winslow truly says, " The science of these 
brain-affections is yet in its infancy in England." 
At that time, it had not even begun to be. Mad- 
ness was a fixed point ; and the inquiries into it 
had no nicety. Its treatment, if estabhshed, had 
no redeeming power. Insanity simply locked a 
man up as a dangerous being ; and the very 



PHYSIOLOGICAL ARGUMENT. 39 I 

suggestion of it, therefore, was resented as an 
injury. 

A most peculiar and affecting feature of that 
form of brain-disease which hurries its victim, as 
by an overpowering mania, into crime, is, that 
often the moral faculties and the affections re- 
main to a degree unimpaired, and protest with all 
their strength against the outrage. Hence come 
conflicts and agonies of remorse proportioned to 
the strength of the moral nature. Byron, more 
than any other one writer, may be called the 
poet of remorse. His passionate pictures of 
this feeling seem to give new power to the 
English language : — 

" There is a war, a chaos of the mind, 
When all its elements convulsed — combined. 
Lie dark and jarring with perturbed force, 
And gnashing with impenitent remorse 
That juggling fiend, who never spake before, 
But cries, ' I warned thee ! ' when the deed is o'er." 

It was this remorse that formed the only re- 
deeming feature of the case. Its eloquence, its 



392 PHYSIOLOGICAL ARGUMENT. 

agonies, won from all hearts the interest that we 
give to a powerful nature in a state of danger 
and ruin ; and it may be hoped that this feel- 
ing, which tempers the stern justice of human 
judgments, may prove only a faint image of the 
wider charity of Him whose thoughts are as far 
above ours as the heaven is above the earth. 



CHAPTER VII. 



HOW COULD SHE LOVE HIM ? 



T T has seemed, to some, wholly inconsistent, 
•^ that Lady Byron, if this story were true, 
could retain any kindly feeUng for Lord Byron, 
or any tenderness for his memory ; that the pro- 
fession implied a certain hypocrisy : but, in this 
sad review, we may see how the woman who 
once had loved him, might, in spite of every 
wrong he had heaped upon her, still have looked 
on this awful wreck and ruin chiefly with pity. 
While she stood afar, and refused to justify 
or join in the polluted idolatry which defended 
his vices, there is evidence in her writings that 
her mind often went back mournfully, as a 
mother's would, to the early days when he might 
have been saved. 

393 



394 HOW COULD SHE LOVE HIM ? 

One of her letters in Robinson's Memoirs, 
in regard to his religious opinions, shows with 
what intense earnestness she dwelt upon the 
unhappy influences of his childhood and youth, 
and those early theologies which led him to re- 
gard himself as one of the reprobate. She 
says, — 

" Not merely from casual expressions, but from the whole 
tenor of Lord Byron's feelings, I could not but conclude that he 
was a believer in the inspiration of the Bible, and had the 
gloomiest Calvinistic tenets. To that unhappy view of the 
relation of the creature to the Creator I have always ascribed 
the misery of his life. 

" It is enough for me to know that he who thinks his trans- 
gression beyond forgiveness . . . has righteousness beyond that 
of the self-satisfied sinner. It is impossible for me to doubt, 
that, could he once have been assured of pardon, his living faith 
in moral duty, and love of virtue (M love the virtues that I can- 
not claim'), would have conquered every temptation. Judge, 
then, how I must hate the creed that made him see God as an 
Avenger, and not as a Father ! My own impressions were just 
the reverse, but could have but little weight ; and it was in vain 
to seek to turn his thoughts from that fixed idea with which he 
connected his personal peculiarity as a stamp. Instead of being 
made happier by any apparent good, he felt convinced that 



HOW COULD SHE LOVE HIM ? 395 

every blessing would be turned into a curse to him. . . . ' The 
worst of it is, I do believe,' he said. /, like all connected with 
him, was broken against the rock of predestination. I may be 
pardoned for my frequent reference to the sentiment (expressed 
by him), that I was only sent to show him the happiness he was 
forbidden to enjoy." 

In this letter we have the heart, not of 
the wife, but of the mother, — the love that 
searches everywhere for extenuations of the 
guilt it is forced to confess. 

That Lady Byron was not alone in ascribing 
such results to the doctrines of Calvinism, in 
certain cases, appears from the language of the 
Thirty-nine Articles, which says, — 

" As the godly consideration of predestination, and our elec- 
tion in Christ, is full of sweet, pleasant, and unspeakable com- 
fort to godly persons, and such as feel in themselves the workings 
of the spirit of Christ ; ... so, for curious and carnal persons, 
lacking the spirit of Christ, to have continually before their 
eyes the sentence of God's predestination, is a most dangerous 
downfall, whereby the Devil doth thrust them either into des- 
peration, or into wretchedness of most unclean living, — no less 
perilous than desperation." 



30 HOW COULD SHE LOVE HIM ? 

Lord Byron's life is an exact commentary on 
these words, which passed under the revision of 
Calvin himself. 

The whole tone of this letter shows not only 
that Lady Byron never lost her deep interest in 
her husband, but that it was by this experience 
that all her religious ideas were modified. There 
is another of these letters in which she thus 
speaks of her husband's writings and charac- 
ter:— 

" The author of the article on " Goethe " appears to me to 
have the mind which could dispel the illusions about anolhcr 
poet, without depreciating his claims ... to the truest inspira- 
tion. 

" Who has sought to distinguish between the holy and the 
unholy in that spirit ? to prove, by the very degradation of the 
one, how high the other was ? A character is never done jus- 
tice to by extenuating its faults : so I do not agree to nisi bonum. 
It is kinder to read the blotted page." 

These letters show that Lady Byron's idea 
was, that, even were the whole mournful truth 
about Lord Byron fully told, there was still a 
foundation left for pity and mercy. She seems 



to have remembered, that if his sins were pecu- 
liar, so also were his temptations ; and to have 
schooled herself for years to gather up, and set 
in order in her memory, all that yet remained 
precious in this great ruin. Probably no Eng- 
lish writer that ever has made the attempt 
could have done this more perfectly. Though 
Lady Byron was not a poet par excellertce, yet 
she belonged to an order of souls fully equal to 
Lord Byron. Hers was more the analytical 
mind of the philosopher than the creative mind 
of the poet ; and it was, for that reason, the one 
mind in our day capable of estimating him fully 
both with justice and mercy. No person in 
England had a more intense sensibility to genius, 
in its loftier acceptation, than Lady Byron ; and 
none more completely sympathized with what 
was pure and exalted in her husband's writings. 
Therie is this peculiarity in Lord Byron, that 
the pure and the impure in his poetry often 
run side by side without mixing, — as one may 
see at Geneva the muddy stream of the Arve 



398 HOW COULD SHE LOVE HIM ? 

and the blue waters of the Rhone flowin 



together unmingled. What, for example, can be 
nobler, and in a higher and tenderer moral 
strain, than his lines on the dying gladiator, in 
" Childe Harold " ? What is more Hke the vigor 
of the old Hebrew Scriptures than his thunder- 
storm in the Alps ? What can more perfectly 
express moral ideality of the highest kind than 
the exquisite descriptions of Aurora Raby, — 
pure and high in thought and language, occur- 
ring; as they do, in a work full of the most utter 
vileness ? 

Lady Byron's hopes for her husband fastened 
themselves on all the noble fragments yet re- 
maining in that shattered temple of his mind 
which lay blackened and thunder-riven ; and she 
looked forward to a sphere beyond this earth, 
where infinite mercy should bring all again to 
symmetry and order. If the strict theologian 
must regret this as an undue latitude of charity, 
let it at least be remembered that it was a char- 
ity which sprang from a Christian virtue, and 



HOW COUI.D SHE LOVE HIM r 



399 



which she extended to every human being, how- 
ever lost, however low. In her view, the mercy 
which took Jiim was mercy that could restore 
all. 

In my recollections of the interview with Lady 
Byron, when this whole history was presented, I 
can remember that it was with a softened and 
saddened feeling that I contemplated the story, 
as one looks on some awful, inexplicable ruin. 

The last letter which I addressed to Lady 
Byron upon this subject will show that such 
was the impression of the whole interview. It 
was in reply to the one written on the death of 
my son : — 

"Jan. 30, 1858. 

" My dear Friend, — I did long to hear from you at a 
time when few knew how to speak, because I knew thatjv^^ had 
known every thing that sorrow can teach, — you, whose whole 
life has been a crucifixion, a long ordeal. 

*' But I believe that the Lamb, who stands forever * in the 
midst of the throne, as it had been slain,' has everywhere his 
followers, — those who seem sent into the world, as he was, to 
suffer for the redemption of others ; and, like him, they must 
look to the joy set before them, — of redeeming others. 



400 HOW COULD SHE LOVE HIM ? 

"I often think that God called you to this beautiful and 
terrible ministry when he suffered you to link your destiny with 
one so strangely gifted and so fearfully tempted. Perhaps the 
reward that is to meet you when you enter within the veil 
where you must so soon pass will be to see that spirit, once 
chained and defiled, set free and purified ; and to know that to 
you it has been given, by your life of love and faith, to accom- 
plish this glorious change. 

" I think increasingly on the subject on which you conversed 
with me once, — the future state of retribution. It is evident to 
me that the spirit of Christianity has produced in the human 
spirit a tenderness of love which wholly revolts from the old 
doctrine on this subject ; and I observe, that, the more Christ- 
like any one becomes, the more difficult it seems for them to 
accept it as hitherto presented. And yet, on the contrary, it was 
Christ who said, ' Fear Him that is able to destroy soul and 
body in hell ; ' and the most appalling language is that of Christ 
himself. 

** Certain ideas, once prevalent, certainly must be thrown 
off. An endless infliction for past sins was once the doctrine : 
that we now generally reject. The doctrine now generally 
taught is, that an eternal persistence in evil necessitates ever- 
lasting suffering, since evil induces misery by an eternal nature 
of things ; and this, I fear, is infeiTible from the analogies 
of Nature, and confirmed by the whole implication of the 
Bible. 

" What attention have you given to this subject ? and is there 



HOW COULD SHE LOVE HIM ? 4OI 

any fair way of disposing of the current of assertion, and the 
still deeper uuder-cm-rent of implication, on this subject, without 
admitting one- which loosens all faith in revelation, and throws 
us on pure naturalism ? But of one thing I always feel sure : 
probation does not end with this present life ; and the number 
of the saved may therefore be infinitely greater than the world's 
history leads us to suppose. 

" I think the Bible implies a great crisis, a struggle, an 
agony, in which God and Christ and all the good are engaged 
in redeeming from sin ; and we are not to suppose that -iihe 
little portion that is done for souls as they pass between the 
two doors of birth and death is all. 

" The Bible is certainly silent there. The primitive Church 
believed in the mercies of an intermediate state ; and it was 
only the abuse of it by Romanism that drove the Church into 
its present position, which, I think, is wholly indefensible, and 
wholly irreconcilable with the spirit of Christ. For if it were the 
case, that probation in all cases begins and ends here, God's ex- 
ample would surely be one that could not be followed, and he 
would seem to be far less persevering than even human beings 
in efforts to save. 

" Nothing is plainer than that it would be wrong to -give up 
any mind to eternal sin till every possible thing had been done 
for its recovery ; and that is so clearly 7wt the case here, that I 
can see, that, with thoughtful minds, this belief would cut the 
very roots of religious faith in God : for there is a difference 
between facts that we do not understand, and facts which we ifo 
26 



402 



understand, and perceive to be wholly irreconcilable with a cer- 
tain character professed by God. 

" If God says he is love, and certain ways of explaining 
Scripture make him less loving and patient than man, then we 
make Scripture contradict itself Now, as no passage of 
Scripture limits probation to this life, and as one passage in 
Peter certainly unequivocally asserts that Christ preached to 
the spirits in prison while his body lay in the grave, I am clear 
upon this point. 

" But it is also clear, that if there be those who persist in 
refusing God's love, who choose to dash themselves forever 
against the inflexible laws of the universe, such souls must 
forever suffer. 

*' There may be souls who hate purity because it reveals 
their vileness ; who refuse God's love, and prefer eternal conflict 
with it. For such there can be no peace. Even in this life, we 
see those whom the purest self-devoting love only inflames to 
madness ; and we have only to suppose an eternal persistence 
in this to suppose eternal misery. 

" But on this subject we can only leave all reverently in the 
hands of that Being whose almighty power is ' declared chiefly 
in showing mercy.' " 



CHAPTER VIII. 



CONCLUSION. 



T N leaving this subject, I have one appeal to 
make to the men, and more especially to 
the women, who have been my readers. 

In justice to Lady Byron, it must be remem- 
bered that this publication of her story is not 
her act, but mine. I trust you have already con- 
ceded, that, in so severe and peculiar a trial, she 
had a right to be understood fully by her imme- 
diate circle of friends, and to seek of them coun- 
sel in view of the moral questions to which such 
very exceptional circumstances must have given 
rise. Her communication to me was not an 
address to the public : it was a statement of 
the case for advice. True, by leaving the whole, 

403 



404 CONCLUSION. 

unguarded by pledge or promise, it left discre- 
tionary power with me to use if needful. 

You, my sisters, are to judge whether the 
accusation laid against Lady Byron by the 
"Blackwood," in 1869, was not of so barbarous 
a nature as to justify my producing the truth I 
held in my hands in reply. 

The " Blackwood " claimed a right to re-open 
the subject because it was 7wt a private but a 
public matter. It claimed that Lord Byron's 
unfortunate marriage might have changed not 
only his own destiny, but that of all England. 
It suggested, that but for this, instead of wear- 
ing out his life in vice, and corrupting society by 
impure poetry, he might, at this day, have been 
leading the counsels of the State, and helping 
the onward movements of the world. Then 
directly it charged Lady Byron with meanly for- 
saking her husband in a time of worldly mis- 
fortune ; with fabricating a destructive accusa- 
tion of crime against him, and confirming this 
accusation by years of persistent silence more 
guilty than open assertion. 



CONCLUSION. 405 

It has been alleged, that, even admitting that 
Lady Byron's story were true, it never ought to 
have been told. 

Is it true, then, that a woman has not the same 
right to individual justice that a man has ? If the 
cases were reversed, would it have been thought 
just that Lord Byron should go down in history 
loaded with accusations of crime because he 
could be only vindicated by exposing the crime 
of his wife ? 

It has been said that the crime charged on 
Lady Byron was comparatively unimportant, and 
the one against Lord Byron was deadly. 

But the " Blackwood," in opening the contro- 
versy, called Lady Byron by the name of an 
unnatural female criminal, whose singular atroci- 
ties alone entitle her to infamous notoriety ; and 
the crime charged upon her was sufficient to 
warrant the comparison. 

Both crimes are foul, unnatural, horrible ; and 
there is no middle ground between the admission 
of the one or the other. 



406 CONCLUSION. 

You must either conclude that a woman, all 
whose other works, words, and deeds were gen- 
erous, just, and gentle, committed this one mon- 
strous exceptional crime, without a motive, and 
against all the analogies of her character and 
all the analogies of her treatment of others ; or 
you must suppose that a man known by all tes- 
timony to have been boundlessly licentious, Vvrho 
took the very course, which, by every physiologi- 
cal law, v/ould have led to unnatural results, did, 
at last, commit an unnatural crime. 

The question, whether I did right, when Lady 
Byron was thus held up as an abandoned crimi- 
nal by the " Blackwood," to interpose my knowl- 
edge of the real truth in her defence, is a serious 
one ; but it is one for which I must account to 
God alone, and in which, without any contempt 
of the opinions of my fellow-creatures, I must 
say, that it is a small thing to be judged of man's 
judgment. 

I had in the case a responsibility very dif- 
ferent from that of many others. I had been 



CONCLUSION. 407 

consulted in relation to the publication of this 
story by Lady Byron, at a time when she had it 
in her power to have exhibited it with all its 
proofs, and commanded an instant conviction. 
I have reason to think that my advice had 
some weight in suppressing that disclosure, I 
gave that advice under the impression that the 
Byron controversy was a thing forever passed, 
and never likely to return. 

It had never occurred to me, that, nine years 
after Lady Byron's death, a standard English 
periodical would declare itself free to re-open 
this controversy, when all the generation who 
were her witnesses had passed from earth ; and 
that it would re-open it in the most savage form 
of accusation, and with the indorsement and 
commendation of a book of the vilest slanders, 
edited by Lord Byron's mistress. 

Let the reader mark the retributions of justice. 
The acciisations of the '' Blackwood," in 1869, 
were simply an intensified form of those first 
concocted by Lord Byron in his " Clytemnestra " 



• 



408 CONCLUSION. 

poem of 1816. He forged that weapon, and be- 
queathed it to his party. The " Blackwood " 
took it up, gave it a sharper edge, and drove it to 
the heart of Lady Byron's fame. The result has 
been the disclosure of this history. It is, then, 
Lord Byron himself, who, by his network of 
wiles, his ceaseless persecutions of his wife, his 
efforts to extend his partisanship beyond the 
grave, has brought on this tumultuous exposure. 
He, and he alone, is the cause of this revela- 
tion. 

And now I have one word to say to those in 
England, who, with all the facts and documents 
in their hands which could at once have cleared 
Lady Byron's fame, allowed the barbarous assault 
of the " Blackwood " to go over the civilized 
world without a reply. I speak to those, who, 
knowing that I am speaking the truth, stand 
silent ; to those who have now the ability to 
produce the facts and documents by which this 
cause might be instantly settled, and who do not 
produce them. 



CONCLUSION. 409 

I do not judge them ; but I remind them that 
a day is coming when they and I must stand 
side by side at the great judgment-seat, — I to 
give an account for my speaking, they for their 
silence. 

In that day, all earthly considerations will 
have vanished like morning mists, and truth or 
falsehood, justice or injustice, will be the only 
realities. 

In that day, God, who will judge the secrets 
of all men, will judge between this man and this 
woman. Then, if never before, the full truth 
shall be told both of the depraved and dissolute 
man who made it his life's object to defame the 
innocent, the silent, the self-denying woman who 
made it her life's object to give space for repent- 
ance to the guilty. 



t'ART III. 



contai:ntng miscellaneous documents referred 
to in the foregoing chapters. 



PART III. 

MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 



THE TRUE STORY OF LADY BYRON'S LIFE, 

AS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED IN "THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY." 

The reading world of America has lately been presented 
with a book which is said to sell rapidly, and which appears to 
meet with universal favor. 

The subject of the book may be thus briefly stated : The mis- 
tress of Lord Byron comes before the world for the sake of 
vindicating his fame from slanders and aspersions cast on him 
by his wife. The story of the mistress versus wife may 
summed up as follows : — 

Lord Byron, the hero of the story, is represented as a human 
being endowed with every natural charm, gift, and grace, who, 
by the one false step of an unsuitable marriage, wrecked his 
whole life. A narrow-minded, cold-hearted precisian, without 
sufficient intellect to comprehend his genius, or heart to feel for 
his temptations, formed with him one of those mere worldly 
marriages common in high life ; and, finding that she could not 
reduce him to the mathematical proprieties and conventional 
rules of her own mode of life, suddenly, and without warning, 
abandoned him in the most cruel and inexplicable manner. 

It is alleged that she parted from him in apparent affection 
and good-humor, wrote him a playful, confiding letter upon the 



an/ 



414 MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 

way, but, after reaching her father's house, suddenly, and with- 
out explanation, announced to him that she would never see 
him again ; that this sudden abandonment drew down upon 
him a perfect storm of scandalous stories, which his wife never 
contradicted ; that she never in any way or shape stated what 
the exact reasons for her departure had been, and thus silently 
gave scope to all the malice of thousands of enemies. The 
sensitive victim was actually driven from England, his home 
broken up, and he doomed to be a lonely wanderer on foreign 
shores. 

In Italy, under bluer skies, and among a gentler people, with 
more tolerant modes of judgment, the authoress intimates that 
he found peace and consolation. A lovely young Italian count- 
ess falls in love with him, and, breaking her family ties for his 
sake, devotes herself to him ; and, in blissful retirement with her, 
he finds at last that domestic life for which he was so fitted. 

Soothed, calmed, and refreshed, he writes " Don Juan," which 
the world is at this late hour informed was a poem with a high 
moral purpose, designed to be a practical illustration of the 
doctrine of total depravity among young gentlemen in high 
life. 

Under the elevating influence of love, he rises at last to 
higher realms of moral excellence, and resolves to devote the 
rest of his life to some noble and heroic purpose ; becomes the 
savior of Greece ; and dies untimely, leaving a nation to mourn 
his loss. 

The authoress dwells with a peculiar bitterness on Lady 
Byron's entire silence during all these years, as the most aggra- 
vated form of persecution and injury. She informs the world 
that Lord Byron wrote his Autobiography with the purpose of 
giving a fair statement of the exact truth in the whole matter ; 
and that Lady Byron Thought up the manuscript of the publisher, 
and insisted on its being destroyed, unread ; thus inflexibly 
depriving her husband of his last chance of a hearing before 
the tribunal of the public. 

As a result of this silent, persistent cruelty on the part of a 

' cold, correct, narrow-minded woman, the character of Lord 

Byron has been misunderstood, and his name transmitted to 



MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 415 

after-ages clouded with aspersions and accusations which it is 
the object of this book to remove. 

Such is the story of Lord Byron's mistress, — a story which 
.is going the length of this American continent, and rousing up 
new sympathy with the poet, and doing its best to bring the 
youth of America once more under the power of that brilHant, 
seductive genius, from which it was hoped they had escaped. 
Already we are seeing it revamped in magazine-articles, which 
take up the slanders of the paramour and enlarge on them, and 
wax eloquent in denunciation of the marble-hearted, insensible 
wife. 

All this while, it does not appear to occur to the thousands 
of unreflecting readers that they are listening merely to the 
story of Lord Byron's mistress and of Lord Byron ; and that, 
even by their own showing, their heaviest accusation against 
Lady Byron is that she has not spoken at all. Her story has 
never been told. 

For many years after the rupture between Lord Byron and 
his wife, that poet's personality, fate, and happiness had an 
interest for the whole civilized world, which, we will venture to 
say, was unparalleled. It is within the writer's recollection, 
how, in the obscure mountain-town where she spent her early 
days. Lord Byron's separation from his wife was, for a season, 
the all-engrossing topic. 

She remembers hearing her father recount at the breakfast- 
table the facts as they were given in the public papers, together 
with his own suppositions and theories of the causes. 

Lord Byron's " Fare thee well," addressed to Lady Byron, 
was set to music, and sung with tears by young school -girls, 
even in this distant America. 

Madame de* Stael said of this appeal, that she was sure it 
would have drawn her at once to his heart and his arms ; she 
could have forgiven every thing : and so said all the young 
ladies all over the world, not only in England, but in France 
and Germany, wherever Byron's poetry appeared in transla- 
tion. 

Lady Byron's obdurate cold-heartedness in refusing even to 



4l6 MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. • 

listen to his prayers, or to have any intercourse with him whi4;h 
might lead to reconciliation, was the one point conceded on all 
sides. 

The stricter moralists defended her ; . but gentler hearts 
throughout all the world regarded her as a marble-hearted 
monster of correctness and morality, a personification of the 
law unmitigated by the gospel. 

Literature in its highest walks busied itself with Lady Byron. 
Hogg, in the character of the Ettrick Shepherd, devotes sev- 
eral eloquent passages to expatiating on the conjugal fidelity 
of a poor Highland shepherd's wife, who, by patience and 
prayer and forgiveness, succeeds in reclaiming her drunken 
husband, and making a good man of him ; and then points his 
moral by contrasting with this touching picture the cold-heart- 
ed, Pharisaical correctness of Lady Byron. 

Moore, in his ** Life of Lord Byron," when beginning the 
recital of the series of disgraceful amours which formed the 
staple of his life in Venice, has this passage : — 

" Highly censurable in point of morality and decorum as 

was his course of life while under the roof of Madame , 

it was (with pain I am forced to confess) venial in comparison 
with the strange, headlong career of license to which, when 
weaned from that connection, he so unrestrainedly, and, it may 
be added, defyingly abandoned himself. Of the state of his 
mind on leaving England, I have already endeavored to convey 
some idea ; and among the feelings that went to make up that 
self-centred spirit of resistance which he then opposed to his 
fate was an indignant scorn for his own countrymen for the 
wrongs he thought they had done him. For a time, the kindly 
sentiments which he still harbored toward Lady Byron, and a sort 
of vagite hope, perhaps, that all would yet come right again, kept 
his mind in a mood somewhat more softened and docile, as well 
as sufficiently under the influence of English opinions to pre- 
vent his breaking out into open rebellion against it, as he un- 
luckily did afterward. 

*' By the failure of the atte?npted mediation with Lady Byron, 
his last link with home was severed : while, notwithstanding the 
quiet and unobtrusive life which he led at Geneva, there was as 



MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 41/ 

yet, he found, no cessation of the slanderous warfare against his 
character ; the same busy and misrepresenting spirit which had 
tracked his every step at home, having, with no less malicious 
watchfulness, dogged him into exile." 

We should like to know what the misrepresentations and 
slanders must have been, when this sort of thing is admitted in 
Mr. Moore's justification. It seems to us rather wonderful how 
anybody, unless it were a person like the Countess Guiccioli, 
could misrepresent a life such as even Byron's friend admits he 
was leading. 

During all these years, when he was setting at defiance every 
principle of morality and decorum, the interest of the female 
mind all over Europe in the conversion of this brilliant prodigal 
son was unceasing, and reflects the greatest credit upon the 
faith of the sex. 

Madame de Stael commenced the first effort at evangelization 
immediately after he left England, and found her catechumen in 
a most edifying state of humility. He was, metaphorically, on 
his knees in penitence, and confessed himself a miserable sin- 
ner in the loveliest manner possible. Such sweetness and hu- 
mility took all hearts. His conversations with Madame de Stael 
were printed, and circulated all over the world ; making it to 
appear that only the inflexibility of Lady Byron stood in the 
way of his entire conversion. 

Lady Blessington, among many others, took him in hand five 
or six years afterward, and was greatly delighted with his docil- 
ity, and edified by his frank and free confessions of his miserable 
offences. Nothing now seemed wanting to bring the wanderer 
home to the fold but a kind word from Lady Byron. But, 
when the fair countess offered to mediate, the poet only shook 
his head in tragic despair ; " he had so many times tried in 
vain ; Lady Byron's course had been fi-om the first that of 
obdurate silence." 

Any one who would wish to see a specimen of the skill of 
the honorable poet in mystification will do well to read a letter 
to Lady Byron, which Lord Byron, on parting from Lady Bles- 
sington, enclosed for her to read just before he went to Greece. 
He says, — 



41 8 MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 

"The letter which I enclose I was prevented from sending by 
my'despair of its doing any good. I was perfectly sincere when 
I wrote it, and am so still. But it is difficult for me to with- 
stand the thousand provocations on that subject which both 
friends and foes have for seven years been throwing in the way 
of a man whose feelings were once quick, and whose temper 
was never patient." 

"TO LADY BYRON, CARE OF THE HON. MRS. LEIGH, LONDON. 

" Pisa, Nov. 17, 1821. 

" I have to acknowledge the receipt of ' Ada's hair,' which 
is very soft and pretty, and nearly as dark already as mine was 
at twelve years old, if I may judge from what I recollect of 
some in Augusta's possession, taken at that age. But it don't 
curl, — perhaps from its being let grow. 

<' I also thank you for the inscription of the date and name ; 
and I will tell you why : I believe that they are the only two 
or three words of your handwriting in my possession. For 
your letters I returned ; and except the two words, or rather 
the one word, * Household,' written twice in an old account- 
book, I have no other. I burnt your last note, for two reasons : 
firstly, it was written in a style not very agreeable ; and, sec- 
ondly, I wished to take your word without documents, which 
are the worldly resources of suspicious people. 

" I suppose that this note will reach you somewhere about 
Ada's birthday, — the loth of December, I believe. She will 
then be six : so that, in about twelve more, I shall have some 
chance of meeting her ; perhaps sooner, if I am obliged to go 
to England by business or otherwise. Recollect, however, one 
thing, either in distance or nearness, — every day which keeps 
us asunder should, after so long a period, rather soften our 
mutual feeUngs ; which must always have one rallying-point 
as long as our child exists, which, I presume, we both hope will 
be long after either of her parents. 

" The time which has elapsed since the separation has been 
considerably more than the whole brief period of our union, 
and the not much longer one of our prior acquaintance. We 



MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 419 

both made a bitter mistake ; but now it is over, and irrevocably 
so. For at thirty-three on my part, and a few years less on 
yours, though it is no very extended period of life, still it is 
one when the habits and thought are generally so formed as to 
admit of no modification ; and, as we could not agree when 
younger, we should with difficulty do so now. 

" I say all this, because I own to you, that, notwithstandmg 
every thing, I considered our re-union as not impossible for 
more than a year after the separation ; but then I gave up the 
hope entirely and forever. But this very impossibility of re- 
union seems to me at least a reason why, on all the few points of 
discussion which can arise between us, we should preserve the 
courtesies of life, and as much of its kindness as people who 
are never to meet may preserve, - perhaps more easily than 
nearer connections. For my own part, I am violent, but not 
malignant ; for only fresh provocations can awaken my resent- 
ments. To you, who are colder and more concentrated, I would 
just hint, that you may sometimes mistake the depth of a cold 
anger for dignity, and a worse feeling for duty. I assure you 
that I bear you now (whatever I may have done) no resentment 
whatever. Remember, that, if you have injured me in aught, this 
forgiveness is something ; and that, if I have injured you, it is 
something more still, if it be true, as the moralists say, that the 
most offending are the least- forgiving. 

" Whether the offence has been solely on my side, or recip- 
rocal, or on yours chiefly, I have ceased to reflect upon any 
but two things ; viz., that you are the mother of my child, and 
that we shall never meet again. I think, if you also consider 
the two corresponding points with reference to myself, it will 

be better for all three. 

" Yours ever, " Noel Byron. 

The artless Thomas Moore introduces this letter in the 
" Life " with the remark, — 

" There are few, I should think, of my readers, who will not 
agree with me in pronouncing, that, if the author of the follow- 
ing letter had not right on his side, he had at least most of ^those 
good feelings which are found in general to accompany it." 



420 MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 

The reader is requested to take notice of the important ad- 
mission, that the letter was jtever sent to Lady Byron at all. It 
was, in fact, never intended for her, but was a nice little dra- 
matic performance, composed simply with the view of acting on 
the sympathies of Lady Blessington and Byron's numerous 
female admirers ; and the reader will agree with us, we think, 
that, in this point of view, it was very neatly done, and deserves 
immortality as a work of high art. For six years, he had been 
plunging into every kind of vice and excess, pleading his shat- 
tered domestic joys, and his wife's obdurate heart, as the apol- 
ogy and the impelling cause ; filling the air with his shrieks and 
complaints concerning the slander which pursued him, while he 
filled letters to his confidential correspondents with records of 
new mistresses. During all these years, the silence of Lady 
Byron was unbroken ; though Lord Byron not only drew in 
private on the sympathies of his female admirers, but employed 
his talents and position as an author in holding her up to 
contempt and ridicule before thousands of readers. We shall 
quote at length his side of the story, which he published in the 
first canto of *' Don Juan," that the reader may see how much 
reason he had for assuming the injured tone which he did in 
the letter to Lady Byron quoted above. That letter never was 
sent to her ; and the unmanly and indecent caricature of her, 
and the indelicate exposure of the whole story on his own side, 
which we are about to quote, were the only communications 
that could have reached her solitude. 

In the following verses, Lady Byron is represented as Donna 
Inez, and Lord Byron as Don Jose ; but the incidents and 
allusions were so very pointed, that nobody for a moment 
doubted whose history the poet was narrating. 

•• His mother was a learned lady, famed 

For every branch of every science known 
In every Christian language ever named, 

With virtues equalled by her wit alone : 
She made the cleverest people quite ashamed ; 

And even the good with inward envy groaned, 
Finding themselves so very much exceeded 
In their own way by all the things that she did. 



MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 421 



Her favorite science was the mathematical ; 

Her noblest virtue was her magnanimity ; 
Her wit (she sometimes tried at wit) was Attic all ; 

Her serious sayings darkened to sublimity : 
In short, in all things she was fairly what I call 

A prodigy. Her morning-dress was dimity ; 
Her evening, silk ; or, in the summer, muslin. 
And other stuffs with which I won't stay puzzling. 

Some women use their tongues : she looked a lecture, 
Each eye a sermon, and her brow a homily. 

An all-in-all sufficient self-director. 

Like the lamented late Sir Samuel Romilly. 

In short, she was a walking calculation, — 
Miss Edgeworth's novels stepping from their covers, 

Or Mrs. Trimmer's books on education, 
Or Cceleb's wife set out in quest of lovers, 

Morality's prim personification, 

In which not envy's self a flaw discovers. 

To others' share ' let female errors fall ; ' 

For she had not even one, — the worst of all. 

Oh ! she was perfect, past all parallel 
Of any modern female saint's comparison ; 

So far above the cunning powers of hell, 

Her guardian angel had given up his garrison : 

Even her minutest motions went as well 
As those of the best timepiece made by Harrison ; 

In virtues, nothing earthly could surpass her 

Save thine ' incomparable oil,' Macassar. 

Perfect she was ; but as perfection is 
Insipid in this naughty world of ours. 



Don Jose, like a lineal son of Eve, 

Went plucking various fruits without her leave. 

He was a mortal of the careless kind, 
With no great love for learning or the learned, 

Who chose to go where'er he had a mind. 
And never dreamed his lady was concerned. 

The world, as usual, wickedly inclined 
To see a kingdom or a house o'erturned, 



422 MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 



Whispered he had a mistress ; some said two: 
But, for domestic quarrels, o>ie will do. 

Now, Donna Inez had, with all her merit, 
A great opinion of her own good qualities : 

Neglect, indeed, requires a saint to bear it ; 
And such indeed she was in her moralities : 

But then she had a devil of a spirit. 
And sometimes mixed up fancies with realities, 

And let few opportunities escape 

Of getting her liege lord into a scrape. 

This was an easy matter with a man 

Oft in the wrong, and never on his guard : 

And even the wisest, do the best they can, 

Have moments, hours, and days so unprepared, 

That you might ' brain them with their lady's fan ; ' 
And sometimes ladies hit exceeding hard. 

And fans turn into falchions in fair hands. 

And why and wherefore no one understands. 

'Tis a pity learned virgins ever wed 
With persons of no sort of education ; 

Or gentlemen, who, though well born and bred, 
Grow tired of scientific conversation. 

I don't choose to say much upon this head ; 
I'm a plain man, and In a single station : 

But, O ye lords of ladies intellectual ! 

Inform us truly, have they not henpecked you all ? 



Don Jose and the Donna Inez led 
For some time an unhappy sort of life. 

Wishing each other not divorced, but dead : 
They lived respectably as man and wife ; 

Their conduct was exceedingly well bred. 
And gave no outward sign of inward strife ; 

Until at length the smothered fire broke out, 

And put the business past all kind of doubt. 

For Inez called some druggists and physicians, 
And tried to prove her loving lord was mad ; 

But, as he had some lucid intermissions. 
She next decided he was only bad. 

Yet, when they asked her for her depositions, 
No sort of explanation could be had , 



MISCELLANEOUS -DOCUMENTS. 423 



Save that her duty both to man and God 
Required this conduct ; which seemed very odd. 

She kept a journal where his faults were noted, 
And opened certain trunks of books and letters, 

(All which might, if occasion served, be quoted ;) 
And then she had all Seville for abettors, 

Besides her good old grandmother (who doted) : 
The hearers of her case became repeaters, 

Then advocates, inquisitors, and judges, — 

Some for amusement, others for old grudges. 

And then this best and meekest woman bore 
With such serenity her husband's woes ! 

Just as the Spartan ladies did of yore, 

Who saw their spouses killed, and nobly chose 

Never to say a word about them more. 
Calmly she heard each calumny that rose. 

And saw his agonies with such sublimity, 

That all the world exclaimed, ' What magnanimity ! ' 



This is the longest and most elaborate version of his own 
story that Byron ever published ; but he busied himself with 
many others, projecting at one time a Spanish romance, in 
which the same story is related in the same transparent man- 
ner : but this he was dissuaded from printing. The book-sell- 
ers, however, made a good speculation in publishing what they 
called his domestic poems ; that is, poems bearing more or 
less relation to this subject. 

Every person with whom he became acquainted with any 
degree of intimacy was made familiar with his side of the story. 
Moore's Biography is from first to last, in its representations, 
founded upon Byron's communicativeness, and Lady Byron's 
silence ; and the world at last settled down to believing that tlie 
account so often repeated, and never contradicted, must be sub- 
stantially a true one. 

The true history of Lord and Lady Byron has long been per- 
fectly understood in many circles in England ; but the facts were 
of a nature that could not be made public. While there was a 
young daughter living whose future might be prejudiced by its 



424 MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 

recital, and while there were other persons on whom the dis- 
closure of the real truth would have been crushing as an ava- 
lanche, Lady Byron's only course was the perfect silence in 
which she took refuge, and those sublime works of charity and 
mercy to which she consecrated her blighted earthly life. 

But the time is now come when the truth may be told. All 
the actors in the scene have disappeared from the stage of mortal 
existence, and passed, let us have faith to hope, into a world 
where they would desire to expiate their faults by a late publica- 
tion of the truth. 

No person in England, we think, would as yet take the 
responsibility of relating the true history which is to clear Lady 
Byron's memory ; but, by a singular concurrence of circum- 
stances, all the facts of the case, in the most undeniable and 
authentic form, were at one time placed in the hands of the 
writer of this sketch, with authority to make such use of them 
as she should judge best. Had this melancholy history been 
allowed to sleep, no public use would have been made of them ; 
but the appearance of a popular attack on the character of Lady 
Byron calls for a vindication, and the true story of her married 
life will therefore now be related. 

Lord Byron has described in one of his letters the impres- 
sion left upon his mind by a young person whom he met one 
evening in society, and who attracted his attention by the sim- 
plicity of her dress, and a certain air of singular purity and 
calmness with which she surveyed the scene around her. 

On inquiry, he was told that this young person was Miss 
Milbanke, an only child, and one of the largest heiresses in 
England. 

Lord Byron was fond of idealizing his experiences in poetry ; 
and the friends of Lady Byron had no difficulty in recognizing 
the portrait of Lady Byron, as she appeared at this time of her 
life, in his exquisite description of Aurora Raby : — 

" There was 
Indeed a certain fair and fairy one, 

Of the best class, and better than her class, — 
Aurora Raby, a young star who shone 

O'er life, too sweet an image for such glass ; 



MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 425 



A lovely being scarcely formed or moulded ; 
A rose with all its sweetest leaves yet folded. 



Early in years, and yet more infantine 
In figure, she had something of sublime 

In eyes which sadly shone as seraphs' shine ; 
All youth, but with an aspect beyond time ; 

Radiant and grave, as pitying man's decline ; 
Mournful, but mournful of another's crime, 

She looked as if she sat by Eden's door, 

And grieved for those who could return no more. 



She gazed upon a world she scarcely knew, 

As seeking not to know it ; silent, lone, 
As grows a flower, thus quietly she grew, 

And kept her heart serene within its zone. 
There was awe in the homage which she drew ; 

Her spirit seemed as seated on a throne. 
Apart from the surrounding world, and strong 
In its own strength, — most strange in one so young ! " 

Some idea of the course which their acquaintance took, and 
of the manner in which he was piqued into thinking of her, is 
given in a stanza or two : — 

" The dashing and proud air of Adeline 

Imposed not upon her : she saw her blaze 
Much as she would have seen a glow-worm shine ; 

Then turned unto the stars for loftier rays. 
Juan was something she could not divine, 

Being no sibyl in the new world's waj's ; 
Yet she was nothing dazzled by the meteor. 
Because she did not pin her faith on feature. 

His fame too (for he had that kind of fame 
Which sometimes plays the deuse with womankind, — 

A heterogeneous mass of glorious blame. 

Half virtues and whole vices being combined ; 

Faults which attract because they are not tame ; 
Follies tricked out so brightly that they blind), — 

These seals upon her wax made no impression, 

Such was her coldness or her self-possession. 



• 



426 MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 



Aurora sat with that indifference 

Which piques dipreux chevaHer, — as it ought. 
Of all offences, that's the worst offence 

Which seems to hint you are not worth a thought. 

To his gay nothings, nothing was replied, 
Or something which was nothing, as urbanity 

Required. Aurora scarcely looked aside, 
Nor even smiled enough for any vanity. 

The Devil was in the girl 1 Could it be pride, 
Or modesty, or absence, or inanity ? 

Juan was drawn thus into some attentions, 
Slight but select, and just enough to express. 

To females of perspicuous comprehensions, 

That he would rather make them more than less. 

Aurora at the last (so history mentions. 
Though probably much less a fact than guess) 

So far relaxed her thoughts from their sweet prison 

As once or twice to smile, if not to listen. 

But Juan had a sort of winning way, 

A proud humility, if such there be, 
Which showed such deference to what females say. 

As if each charming word were a decree. 
His tact, too, tempered him from grave to gay, 

And taught him when to be reserved or free. 
He had the art of drawing people out, 
Without their seeing what he was about. 

Aurora, who, in her indifference, 

Confounded him in common with the crowd 

Of flatterers, though she deemed he had more sense 
Than whispering foplings or than witlings loud, 

Commenced (from such slight things will great commence) 
To feel that flattery which attracts the proud, 

Rather by deference than compliment. 

And wins even by a delicate dissent. 

And then he had good looks ; that point was carried 
Nem. con. amongst the women. 

Now, though we know of old that looks deceive. 
And always have done, somehow these good looks 
Make more impression than the best of books. 



MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 42/ 



Aurora, who looked more on books than faces, 

Was very young, although so very sage ; 
Admiring more Minerva than the Graces, 

Especially upon a printed page. 
But Virtue's self, with all her tightest laces, 

Has not the natural stays of strict old age ; 
And Socrates, that model of all duty. 
Owned to a penchant, though discreet, for beauty." 

The presence of this high-minded, thoughtful, unworldly 
woman is described through two cantos of the wild, rattling 
*' Don Juan," in a manner that shows how deeply the poet was 
capable of being affected by such an appeal to his higher nature. 

For instance, when Don Juan sits silent and thoughtful amid 
a circle of persons who are talking scandal, the poet says, — 

" 'Tis true, he saw Aurora look as though 

She approved his silence : she perhaps mistook 
Its motive for that charity we owe. 
But seldom pay, the absent. 



He gained esteem where it was worth the most ; 

And certainly Aurora had renewed 
In him some feelings he had lately lost 

Or hardened, — feelings which, perhaps ideal, 
Are so divine that I must deem them real : — 

The love of higher things and better days ; 

The unbounded hope and heavenly ignorance 
Of what is called the world and the world's ways ; 

The moments when we gather from a glance 
More joy than from all future pride or praise, 

Which kindled manhood, but can ne'er entrance 
The heart in an existence of its own 
Of which another's bosom is the zone. 

And, full of sentiments sublime as billows 

Heaving between this world and worlds beyond, 

Don Juan, when the midnight hour of pillows 
Arrived, retired to his." . . . 

In all these descriptions of a spiritual, unworldly nature 
acting on the spiritual and unworldly part of his own nature, 



428 MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 

every one who ever knew Lady Byron intimately must have 
recognized the model from which he drew, and the experience 
from which he spoke, even though nothing was further from his 
mind than to pay this tribute to the woman he had injured, and 
though before these lines, which showed how truly he knew her 
real character, had come one stanza of ribald, vulgar caricature, 
designed as a slight to her : — 

" There was Miss Millpond, smooth as summer's sea, 

That usual paragon, an only daughter. 
Who seemed the cream of equanimity 

'Till skimmed ; and then there was some milk and water ; 
With a slight shade of blue, too, it might be, 

Beneath the surface : but what did it matter? 
Love's riotous ; but marriage should have quiet, 
And, being consumptive, live on a milk diet." 

The result of Byron's intimacy with Miss Milbanke and the 
enkindling of his nobler feelings was an offer of marriage, which 
she, though at the time deeply interested in him, declined with 
many expressions of friendship and interest. In fact, she 
already loved him, but had that doubt of her power to be to 
him all that a wife should be which would be likely to arise in 
a mind so sensitively constituted and so unworldly. They, how- 
ever, continued a correspondence as friends : on her part, the 
interest continually increased ; on his, the transient rise of bet- 
ter feelings was choked and overgrown by the thorns of base, 
unworthy passions. 

From the height at which he might have been happy as the 
husband of a noble woman, he fell into the depths of a secret 
adulterous intrigue with a blood relation, so near in consanguin- 
ity, that discovery must havQ been utter ruin, and expulsion from 
civilized society. 

From henceforth, this damning guilty secret became the rul- 
ing force in his life ; holding him with a morbid fascination, yet 
filling him with remorse and anguish, and insane dread of detec- 
tion. Two years after his refusal by Miss Milbanke, his various 
friends, seeing that for some cause he was wretched, pressed 
marriage upon him. 



MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 429 

Marriage has often been represented as the proper goal and 
terminus of a wild and dissipated career ; and it has been sup- 
posed to be the appointed mission of good women to receive 
wandering prodigals, with all the rags and disgraces of their old 
life upon them, and put rings on their hands, and shoes on their 
feet, and introduce them, clothed and in their right minds, to an 
honorable career in society. 

Marriage was, therefore, universally recommended to Lord 
Byron by his numerous friends and well-wishers ; and so he 
determined to marry, and, in an hour of reckless desperation, 
sat down and wrote proposals to two ladies. One was declined : 
the other, which was accepted, was to Miss Milbanke. The 
world knows well that he had the gift of expression, and will 
not be surprised that he wrote a very beautiful letter, and that 
the woman who had already learned to love him fell at once 
into the snare. 

Her answer was a frank, outspoken avowal of her love for 
him, giving herself to him heart and hand. The good in Lord 
Byron was not so utterly obliterated that he could receive such 
a letter without emotion, or practise such unfairness on a loving, 
trusting heart without pangs of remorse. He had sent the 
letter in mere recklessness ; he had not seriously expected to 
be accepted ; and the discovery of the treasure of affection which 
he had secured was like a vision of lost heaven to a soul in hell. 

But, nevertheless, in his letters written about the engage- 
ment, there are sufficient evidences that his self-love was flat- 
tered at the preference accorded him by so superior a woman, 
and one who had been so much sought. He mentions with an 
air of complacency that she has employed the last two years in 
refusing five or six of his acquaintance ; that he had no idea 
she loved him, admitting that it was an old attachment on his 
part. He dwells on her virtues with a sort of pride of owner- 
ship. There is a sort of childish levity about the frankness 
of these letters, very characteristic of the man who skimmed 
over the deepest abysses with the lightest jests. Before the 
world, and to his intimates, he was acting the part of the suc- 
cessful y?^«ce, conscious all the while of the deadly secret that 
lay cold at the bottom of his heart. 



430 MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 

When he went to visit Miss Milbanke's parents as her ac- 
cepted lover, she was struck with his manner and appearance : 
she saw him moody and gloomy, evidently wrestling with dark 
and desperate thoughts, aad any thing but what a happy and 
accepted lover should be. She sought an interview with him 
alone, and told him that she had observed that he was not 
happy in the engagement ; and magnanimously added, that if, on 
review, he found he had been mistaken in the nature of his 
feelings, she would immediately release him, and they should 
remain only friends. 

Overcome with the conflict of his feelings. Lord Byron 
fainted away. Miss Milbanke was convinced that his heart 
must really be deeply involved in an attachment with reference 
to which he showed such strength of emotion, and she spoke 
no more of a dissolution of the engagement. 

There is no reason to doubt that Byron was, as he relates in 
his " Dream," profoundly agonized and agitated when he stood 
before God's altar with the trusting young creature whom he 
was leading to a fate so awfully tragic ; yet it was not the mem- 
ory of Mary Chaworth, but another guiltier and more damning 
memory, that overshadowed that hour. 

The moment the carriage-doors were shut upon the bride- 
groom and the bride, the paroxysm of remorse and despair — 
unrepentant remorse and angry despair — broke forth upon her 
gentle head : — 

" You might have saved me from this, madam ! You had all 
in your own power when I offered myself to you first. Then 
you might have made me what you pleased ; but now you will 
find that you have married a devil I " 

In Miss Martineau's Sketches, recently published, is an 
account of the termination of this wedding-journey, which 
brought them to one of Lady Byron's ancestral country-seats, 
where they were to spend the honeymoon. 

Miss Martineau says, — 

" At the altar she did not know that she was a sacrifice ; but 
before sunset of that winter day she knew it, if a judgment may 
be formed from her face, and attitude of despair, when she 
alighted from the carriage on the afternoon of her marriage- 



MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. AAl 



day. It was not the traces of tears which won the sympathy 
of the old butler who stood at the open door. The bride- 
groom jumped out of the carriage, and walked away. The 
bride alighted, and came up the steps alone, with a countenance 
and frame agonized and listless with evident horror and despair. 
The old servant longed to offer his arm to the young, lonely 
creature, as an assurance of sympathy and protection. From 
this shock she certainly rallied, and soon. The pecuniary difii- 
culties of her new home were exactly what a devoted spirit like 
hers was fitted to encounter. Her husband bore testimony, 
after the catastrophe, that a brighter being, a more sympathiz- 
ing and agreeable companion, never blessed any man's home. 
When he afterward called her cold and mathematical, and over- 
pious, and so forth, it was when public opinion had gone 
against him, and when he had discovered that her fidelity and 
mercy, her silence and magnanimity, might be relied on, so that 
he was at full liberty to make his part good, as far as she was 
concerned. 

" Silent she was even to her own parents, whose feelings she 
magnanimously spared. She did not act rashly in leaving him, 
though she had been most rash in marrying him." 

Not all at once did the full knowledge of the dreadful 
reality into which she had entered come upon the young wife. 
She knew vaguely, from the wild avowals of the first hours of 
their marriage, that there was a dreadful secret of guilt ; that 
Byron's soul was torn with agonies of remorse, and that he had 
no love to give to her in return for a love which was ready to 
do and dare all for him. Yet bravely she addressed herself to 
the task of soothing and pleasing and calming the man whom 
she had taken " for better or for worse." 

Young and gifted ; with a peculiar air of refined and spiritual 
beauty ; graceful in every movement ; possessed of exquisite 
taste ; a perfect companion to his mind in all the higher walks 
of literary culture ; and with that infinite pliability to all his 
varying, capricious moods which true love alone can give ; 
bearing in her hand a princely fortune, which, with a woman's 
uncalculating generosity, was thrown at his feet, — there is no 
wonder that she might feel for a while as if she could enter 



432 MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 

the lists with the very Devil himself, and fight with a woman's 
weapons for the heart of her husband. 

There are indications scattered through the letters of Lord 
Byron, which, though brief indeed, showed that his young wife 
was making every effort to accommodate herself to him, and to 
give him a cheerful home. One of the poems that he sends to 
his publisher about this time, he speaks of as being copied by 
her. He had always the highest regard for her literary judg- 
ments and opinions ; and this little incident shows that she was 
already associating herself in a wifely fashion with his aims as 
an author. 

The poem copied by her, however, has a sad meaning, which 
she afterwards learned to understand only too well : — 

" There's not a joy the world can give like that it takes away 
When the glow of early thought declines in feeling's dull decay : 
'Tis not on yout^i's smooth cheek the blush alone that fades so fast ; 
But the tender bloom of heart is gone e'er youth itself be past. 

Then the few whose spirits float above the wreck of happiness 
Are driven o'er the shoals of guilt, or ocean of excess : 
The magnet of their course is gone, or only points in vain 
The shore to which their shivered sail shall never stretch again." 

Only a few days before she left him forever. Lord Byron sent 
Murray manuscripts, in Lady Byron's handwriting, of the 
*' Siege of Corinth," and ' Parisina," and wrote, — 

" I am very glad that the handwriting was a favorable omen 
of the morale of the piece : but you must not trust to that ; for 
my copyist would write out any thing I desired, in all the igno- 
rance of innocence." 

There were lucid intervals in which Lord Byron felt the 
charm of his wife's mind, and the strength of her powers. 
" Bell, you could be a poet too, if you only thought so," he 
would say. There were summer-hours in her stormy life, the 
memory of which never left her, when Byron was as gentle and 
tender as he was beautiful ; when he seemed to be possessed 
by a good angel : and then for a little time all the ideal possibil- 
ities of his nature stood revealed. 



MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 



433 



The most dreadful men to live with are those who thus 
alternate between angel and devil. The buds of hope and love 
called out by a day or two of sunshine are frozen again and 
again, till the tree is killed. 

But there came an hour of revelation, — an hour when, in a 
manner which left no kind of room for doubt. Lady Byron saw 
the full depth of the abyss of infamy which her marriage was 
expected to cover, and understood that she was expected to 
be the cloak and the accomplice of this infamy. 

Many women would have been utterly crushed by such a 
disclosure ; some would have fled from him immediately, and 
exposed and denounced the crime. Lady Byron did neither. 
When all the hope of womanhood died out of her heart, there 
arose within her, stronger, purer, and brighter, that immortal 
kind of love such as God feels for the sinner, — the love of 
which Jesus spoke, and which holds the one wanderer of more 
account than the ninety and nine that went not astray. She 
would neither leave hfer husband nor betray him, nor yet would 
she for one moment justify his sin ; and hence came two 
years of convulsive struggle, in which sometimes, for a while, 
the good angel seemed to gain ground, and then the evil one 
returned with sevenfold vehemence. 

Lord Byron argued his case with himself and with her 
with all the sophistries, of his powerful mind. He repudiated 
Christianity as authority ; asserted the right of every human 
being to follow out what he called " the impulses of nature." 
Subsequently he introduced into one of his dramas the reason- 
ing by which he justified himself in incest. 

In the drama of " Cain," Adah, the sister and the wife of 
Cain, thus addresses him : — 

" Cain, walk not with this spirit. 
Bear with what we have borne, and love me : I 
Love thee. 

Ltccifer. More than thy mother and thy sire ? 

Adah. I do. Is that a sin too? 

Lucifer. No, not yet : 

It one day will be in your children. 

Adah. What I 

Must not my daughter love her brother Enoch ? 
28 



434 MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 



Lucifer. Not as thou lovest Cain, 

Adah. O my God! 

Shall they not love, and bring forth things that love 
Out of their love ? Have they not drawn their milk 
Out of this bosom ? Was not he, their father, 
Born of the same sole womb, in the same hour 
With me ? Did we not lore each other, and, 
In multiplying our being, multiply 
Things which will love each other as we love 
Them ? And as I love thee, my Cain, go not 
Forth with this spirit : he is not of ours. 

Lucifer. The sin I speak of is not of my making ; 
And cannot be a sin in you, whate'er 
It seems in those who will replace ye in 
Mortality. 

Adah. What is the sin which is not 
Sin in itself? Can circumstance make sin 
Of virtue ? If it doth, we are the slaves 
Of" — 

Lady Byron, though slight and almost infantine in her 
bodily presence, had the soul, not only of an angelic woman, 
but of a strong, reasoning man. It was the writer's lot to 
know her at a period when she formed the personal acquaint- 
ance of many of the very first minds of England ; but, among 
all with whom this experience brought her in connection, there 
was none who impressed her so strongly as Lady Byron. 
There was an almost supernatural power of moral divination, 
a grasp of the very highest and most comprehensive things, 
that made her lightest opinions singularly impressive. No doubt, 
this result was wrought out in a great degree from the anguish 
and conflict of these two years, when, with no one to help or 
counsel her but Almighty God, she wrestled and struggled 
with fiends of darkness for the redemption of her husband's 
soul. 

She followed him through all his sophistical reasonings with 
a keener reason. She besought and implored, in the name of 
his better nature, and by all the glorious things that he was 
capable of being and doing ; and she had just power enough 
to convulse and shake and agonize, but not power enough to 
subdue. 



MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 



435 



One of the first of living writers, in the novel of " Romola," 
has given, in her masterly sketch of the character of Tito, the 
whole history of the conflict of a woman like Lady Byron with 
a nature like that of her husband. She has described a being 
full of fascinations and sweetnesses, full of generosities and of 
good-natured impulses ; a nature that could not bear to give 
pain, or to see it in others, but entirely destitute of any firm 
moral principle : she shows how such a being, merely by 
yielding step by step to the impulses of passion, and disregard- 
ing the claims of truth and right, becomes involved in a fatality 
of evil, in which deceit, crime, and cruelty are a necessity, 
forcing him to persist in the basest ingratitude to the father who 
has done all for him, and hard-hearted treachery to the high- 
minded wife who has given herself to him wholly. 

There are few scenes in literature more fearfully tragic than 
the one between Romola and Tito, when he finally discovers 
that she knows him fully, and can be deceived by him no more. 
Some such hour always must come for strong, decided natures 
irrevocably pledged, — one to the service of good, and the other 
to the slavery of evil. The demoniac cried out, " What have 
I to do with thee, Jesus of Nazareth ? Art thou come to tor- 
ment me before the time ? " The presence of all-pitying purity 
and love was a torture to the soul possessed by the demon of 
evil. 

These two years in which Lady Byron was with all her soul 
struggling to bring her husband back to his better self were a 
series of passionate convulsions. 

During this time, such was the disordered and desperate 
state of his worldly affairs, that there were ten executions for 
debt levied on their family establishment ; and it was Lady 
Byron's fortune each time which settled the account. 

Toward the last, she and her husband saw less and less of 
each other ; and he came more and more decidedly under evil 
influences, and seemed to acquire a sort of hatred of her. 

Lady Byron once said significantly to a friend who spoke 
of some causeless dislike in another, " My dear, I have known 
people to be hated for no other reason than because they im- 
personated conscience." 



436 MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 

The biographers of Lord Byron, and all his apologists, are 
careful to narrate how sweet and amiable and obliging he was 
to everybody who approached him ; and the saying of Fletcher, 
his man-servant, that " anybody could do any thing with my 
Lord, except my Lady," has often been quoted. 

The reason of all this will now be evident. " My Lady " 
was the only one, fully understanding the deep and dreadful 
secrets of his life, who had the courage resolutely and persist- 
ently and inflexibly to plant herself in his way, and insist upon 
it, that, if he went to destruction, it should be in spite of her 
best efforts. 

He had tried his strength with her fully. The first attempt 
had been to make her an accomplice by sophistry ; by destroy- 
ing her faith in Christianity, and confusing her sense of right 
and wrong, to bring her into the ranks of those convenient 
women who regard the marriage-tie only as a friendly alliance 
to cover license on both sides. 

When her husband described to her the Continental latitude 
(the good-humored marriage, in which complaisant couples 
mutually agreed to form the cloak for each other's infidelities), 
and gave her to understand that in this way alone she could 
have a peaceful and friendly life with him, she answered him 
simply, " I am too truly your friend to do this." 

When Lord Byron found that he had to do with one who 
would not yield, who knew him fully, who could not be blinded 
and could not be deceived, he determined to rid himself of her 
altogether. 

It was when the state of affairs between herself and her 
husband seemed darkest and most hopeless, that the only child 
of this union was born. Lord Byron's treatment of his wife 
during the sensitive period that preceded the birth of this child, 
and during her confinement, was marked by paroxysms of un- 
manly brutality, for which the only possible charity on her part 
was the supposition of insanity. Moore sheds a significant 
light on this period, by telling us, that, about this time, Byron 
was often drunk, day after day, with Sheridan. There had been 
insanity in the family ; and this was the plea which Lady Byron's 
love put in for him. She regarded him as, if not insane, at 



MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 



437 



least so nearly approaching the boundaries of insanity as to be a 
subject of forbearance and tender pity ; and she loved him with 
that love resembling a mother's, which good wives often feel 
when they have lost all faith in their husbands' principles, and 
all hopes of their affections. Still, she was in heart and soul 
his best friend ; true to him with a truth which he himself could 
not shake. 

In the verses addressed to his daughter, Lord Byron speaks 
of her as 

" The child of love, though bom in bitterness, 
And nurtured in convulsion." 

A day or two after the birth of this child. Lord Byron came 
suddenly into Lady Byron's room, and told her that her mother 
was dead. It was an utter falsehood ; but it was only one of 
the many nameless injuries and cruelties by which he expressed 
his hatred of her. A short time after her confinement, she was 
informed by him, in a note, that, as soon as she was able to 
travel, she must go ; that he could npt and would not longer 
have her about him ; and, when her child was only five weeks 
old, he carried this threat of expulsion into effect. 

Here we will insert briefly Lady Byron's own account (the 
only one she ever gave to the public) of this separation. The 
circumstances under which this brief story was written are 
affecting. 

Lord Byron was dead. The whole account between him 
and her was closed forever in this world. Moore's Life had 
been prepared, containing simply and solely Lord Byron's 
own vei'sion of their story. Moore sent this version to Lady 
Byron, and requested to know if she had any remarks to make 
upon it. In reply, she sent a brief statement to him, — the first 
and only one that had come from her during all the years of 
the separation, and which appears to have mainly for its 
object the exculpation of her father and mother from the charge, 
made by the poet, of being the instigators of the separation. 

In this letter, she says, with regard to their separation, — 

" The facts are, I left London for Kirkby Mallory, the resi- 
dence of my father and mother, on the 15th of January, 1816. 



438 MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS.- 

Lord Byron had signified to me in writing, Jan. 6, 
his absolute desire that i should leave london on 
the earliest day that i could conveniently fix. 
It was not safe for me to undertake the fatigue of a journey 
sooner than the 15th. Previously to my departure,, it had been 
strongly impressed upon my mind that Lord Byron was under 
the influence of insanity. This opinion was derived, in a great 
measure, from the communications made me by his nearest rela- 
tives and personal attendant, who had more opportunity than 
myself for observing him during the latter part of my stay in 
town. It was even represented to me that he was in danger of 
destroying himself 

" With the conairrence of his family^ I had consulted Dr. 
Baillie as a friend (Jan. 8) respecting the supposed malady. 
On acquainting him with the state of the case, and with Lord 
Byron's desire that I should leave London, Dr. Baillie thought 
that my absence might be advisable as an experiment, assuming 
the fact of mental derangement ; for Dr. Baillie, not having 
had access to Lord Byron, could not pronounce a positive 
opinion on that point. He enjoined, that, in correspondence 
with Lord Byron, I should avoid all but light and soothing 
topics. Under these impressions, I left London, determined to 
follow the advice given by Dr. Baillie. Whatever might have 
been the conduct of Lord Byron toward me from the time of my 
marriage, yet, supposing him to be in a state of mental aliena- 
tion, it was not for fiie, nor for any person of common humanity, 
to manifest at that moment a sense of injury." 

Nothing more than this letter from Lady Byron is necessary 
to substantiate the fact, that she did not leave her husband, but 
zvas driven from him, — driven from him that he might give 
himself up to the guilty infatuation that was consuming him, 
without being tortured by her imploring face, and by the silent 
power of her presence and her prayers. 

For a long time before this, she had seen little of him. On 
the day of her departure, she passed by the door of his room, 
and stopped to caress his favorite spaniel, which was lying 
there ; and she confessed to a friend the weakness of feeling a 
willingness even to be something as humble as that poor little 



MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 



439 



creature, might she only be allowed to remain and watch over 
him. She went into the room where he and the partner of his 
sins were sitting together, and said, " Byron, I come to say good- 
by ; " offering, at the same time, her hand. 

Lord Byron gut his hands behind him, retreated to the 
mantle-piece, and, looking round on the two that stood there, 
with a sarcastic smile said, " When shall we three meet again ? " 
Lady Byron. answered, *' In heaven, I trust." And those were 
her last words to him on earth. 

Now, if the reader wishes to understand the real talents of 
Lord Byron for deception and dissimulation, let him read, with 
this story in his mind, the " Fare thee well," which he addressed 
to Lady Byron through the printer : — 

*' Fare thee well ; and if forever, 
Still forever fare thee well ! 
Even though unforgiving, never 
'Gainst thee shall my heart rebel. 

Would that ireast were bared before thee 

Where thy head so oft hath lain, 
While that placid sleep came o'er thee 

Thou canst never know again ! 

Though my many faults defaced me, 

Could no other arm be found 
Than the one which once embraced me 

To inflict a careless wound ? " 

The re-action of society against him at the time of the sepa- 
ration from his wife was something which he had not expected, 
and for which, it appears, he was entirely unprepared. It broke 
up the guilty intrigue, and drove him from England. He had 
not courage to meet or endure it. The world, to be sure, was 
very far from suspecting what the truth was : but the tide was 
setting against him with such vehemence as to make him trem- 
ble every hour lest the whole should be known ; and henceforth 
it became a warfare of desperation to make his story good, no 
matter at whose expense. 

He had tact enough to perceive at first that the assumption 
of the pathetic and the magnanimous, and general confessions 
of faults, accompanied with admissions of his wife's goodness, 



440 MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 

would be the best policy in his case. In this mood, he thus 
writes to Moore : — 

"The fault was not in my choice (unless in choosing at all) ; 
for I do not believe (and I must say it in the very dregs of all 
this bitter business) that there ever was a ^better, or even a 
brighter, a kinder, or a more amiable, agreeable being than 
Lady Byron. I never- had, nor can have, any reproach to make 
her while with me. Where there is blame, it belongs to myself." 

As there must be somewhere a scapegoat to bear the sin of 
the affair, Lord Byron wrote a poem called " A Sketch," in 
which he lays the blame of stirring up strife on a friend and 
former governess of Lady Byron's ; but in this sketch he intro- 
duces the following just eulogy on Lady Byron : — 

'* Foiled was perversion by that youthful mind 
Which flattery fooled not, baseness could not blind. 
Deceit infect not, near contagion soil, 
Indulgence weaken, nor example spoil, 
Nor mastered science tempt her to look down 
On humbler talents with a pitying frown, 
Nor genius swell, nor beauty render vain, 
Nor envy ruffle to retaliate pain, 
Nor fortune change, pride raise, nor passion bow. 
Nor virtue teach austerity, — till now ; 
Serenely purest of her sex that live. 
But wanting one sweet weakness, — ^to forgive ; 
Too shocked at faults her soul can never know, 
She deemed that all could be like her below : 
Foe to all vice, yet hardly Virtue's friend ; 
For Virtue pardons those she would amend." 

In leaving England, Lord Byron first went to Switzerland, 
where he conceived and in part wrote out the tragedy of" Man- 
fred." Moore speaks of his domestic misfortunes, and the 
sufferings which he underwent at this time, as having an influ- 
ence in stimulating his genius, so that he was enabled to write 
with a greater power. 

Anybody who reads the tragedy of " Manfred " with this 
story in his mind will see that it is true. 

The hero is represented as a gloomy misanthrope, dwelling 
with impenitent remorse on the memory of an incestuous pas- 



MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 441 



sion which has been the destruction of his sister for this life and 
the hfe to come, but which, to the very last gasp, he despair- 
ingly refuses to repent of, even while he sees the fiends of dark- 
ness rising to take possession of his departing soul. That 
Byron knew his own guilt well, and judged himself severely, 
may be gathered from passages in this poem, which are as 
powerful as human language can be made ; for instance, this 
part of the " incantation," which Moore says was written at 
this time : — 

" Though thy slumber may be deep, . 
Yet thy spirit shall not sleep : 
There are shades which will not vanish ; 
There are thoughts thou canst not banish. 
By a power to thee unknown, 
Thou canst never be alone : 
Thou art wrapt as with a shroud ; 
Thou art gathered in a cloud ; 
And forever shalt thou dwell 
In the spirit of this spell. 



From thy false tears I did distil 
An essence which had strength to kill ; 
From thy own heart I then did wring 
The black blood in its blackest spring ; 
From thy own smile I snatched 'the snake. 
For there it coiled as in a brake ; 
From thy own lips I drew the charm 
Which gave all these their chiefest harm : 
In proving every poison known, 
I found the strongest was thine own. 

By thy cold breast and serpent smile, 

By thy unfathomed gulfs of guile. 

By that most seeming virtuous eye. 

By thy shut soul's hypocrisy. 

By the perfection of thine art 

Which passed for human thine own heart, 

By thy delight in others' pain, 

And by thy brotherhood of Cain, 

I call upon thee, and compel 

Thyself to be thy proper hell ! " 

Again : he represents Manfred as saying to the old abbot, 
who seeks to bring him to repentance, — 



442 MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 



" Old man, there is no power in holy men, < 

Nor charm in prayer, nor purifying form 
Of penitence, nor outward look, nor fast, 
Nor agony, nor, greater than all these, 
The innate tortures of that deep despair, 
Which is remorse without the fear of hell, 
But, all in all sufficient to itself, 
Would make a hell of heaven, can exorcise 
From out the unbounded spirit the quick sense 
Of its own sins, wrongs, sufferance, and revenge 
Upon itself: there is no future pang 
Can deal that justice on the self-condemned 
He deals on his own soul." 

And when the abbot tells him, 

" All this is well ; 
For this will pass away, and be succeeded 
By an auspicious hope, which shall look up 
With calm assurance to that blessed place 
Which all who seek may win, whatever be 
Their earthly errors," 

He answers, 

" It is too late." 

Then the old abbot soliloquizes : — 

" This should have been a noble creature : he 
Hath all the energy which would have made 
A goodly frame of glorious elements, 
Had they been wisely mingled ; as it is, 
It is an awful chaos, — light and darkness, 
And mind and dust, and passions and pure thoughts. 
Mixed, and contending without end or order." 

The world can easily see, in Moore's Biography, what, after 
this, was the course of Lord Byron's life ; how he went from 
shame to shame, and dishonor to dishonor, and used the fortune 
which his wife brought him in the manner described in those 
private letters which his biographer was left to print. Moore, 
indeed, says Byron had made the resolution not to touch his 
lady's fortune ; but adds, that it required more self-command 
than he possessed to carry out so honorable a purpose. 



MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 443 

Lady Byron made but one condition with him. She had him 
in her power ; and she exacted that the unhappy partner of his 
sins should not follow him out of England, and that the ruinous 
intrigue should be given up. Her inflexibility on this point 
kept up that enmity which was constantly expressing itself in 
some publication or other, and which drew her and her private 
relations with him before the public. 

Tbe story of what Lady Byron did with the portion of her 
fortune which was reserved to her is a record of noble and 
skilfully administered charities. Pitiful and wise and strong, 
there was no form of human suffering or sorrow that did not 
find with her refuge and help. She gave not only systemati- 
cally, but also impulsively. 

Miss Martineau claims for her the honor of having first 
invented practical schools, in which the children of the poor 
were turned into agriculturists, artisans, seamstresses, and good 
wives for poor men. While she managed with admirable skill 
and economy permanent institutions of this sort, she was always 
ready, to relieve suffering in any form. The fugitive slaves 
William and Ellen Crafts, escaping to England, were fostered 
by her protecting care. 

In many cases where there was distress or anxiety from 
poverty among those too self-respecting to make their sufferings 
known, the delicate hand of Lady Byron ministered to the 
want with a consideration which spared the most refined feel- 
ings. 

As a mother, her course was embarrassed by peculiar trials. 
The daughter inherited from the father not only brilliant talents, 
but a restlessness and morbid sensibility which might be too 
surely traced to the storms and agitations of the period in which 
she was born. It was necessary to bring her up in ignorance 
of the true history of her mother's life ; and the consequence 
was, that she could not fully understand that mother. 

During her early girlhood, her career was a source of more 
anxiety than of comfort. She married a man of fashion, ran a 
brilliant course as a gay woman of fashion, and died early of a 
lingering and painful disease. 

In the silence and shaded retirement of the sick-room, the 



444 MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 



daughter came wholly back to her mother's arms and heart ; 
and it was on that mother's bosom that she leaned as she went 
down into the dark valley. It was that mother who placed her 
weak and dying hand in that of her Almighty Saviour. 

To the children left by her daughter, she ministered with the 
faithfulness of a guardian angel ; and it is owing to her influ- 
ence that those who yet remain are among the best and noblest 
of mankind. 

The person whose relations with Byron had been so disas- 
trous, also, in the latter years of her life, felt Lady Byron's 
loving and ennobling influences, and, in her last sickness and 
dying hours, looked to her for consolation and help. 

There was an unfortunate child of sin, born with the curse 
upon her, over whose wayward nature Lady Byron watched 
with a mother's tenderness. She was the one who could have 
patience when the patience of every one else failed ; and though 
her task was a difficult one, from the strange, abnormal propen- 
sities to evil in the object of her cares, yet Lady Byron never 
faltered, and never gave over, till death took the responsibility 
from her hands. 

During all this trial, strange to say, her belief that the good 
in Lord Byron would finally conquer was unshaken. 

To a friend who said to her, " Oh ! how could you love 
him } " she answered briefly, " My dear, there was the angel in 
him." It is in us all. 

It was in this angel that she had faith. It was for the deliv- 
erance of this angel from degradation and shame and sin that 
she unceasingly prayed. She read every work that Byron 
wrote, — read it with a deeper knowledge than any human being 
but herself could possess. The ribaldry and the obscenity and 
the insults with which he strove to make her ridiculous in the 
world fell at her pitying feet unheeded. 

When he broke away from all this unworthy life to devote 
himself to a manly enterprise for the redemption of Greece, she 
thought that she saw the beginning of an answer to her prayers. 
Even although one of his latest acts concerning her was to 
repeat to Lady Blessiitgton the false accusation which made 
Lady Byron the author of all his errors, she still had hopes 
from the one step taken in the right direction. 



MISCELLANEOUS DOCUxMENTS. 445 

In the midst of these hopes came the news of his sudden 
death. On his death-bed, it is well known that he called his 
confidential English servant to him, and said to him, "Go to 
my sister; tell her — Go to Lady Byron, — you will see her, — 
and say " — * 

Here followed twenty minutes of indistinct mutterings, in 
which the names of his wife, daughter, and sister, frequently 
occurred. He then said, " Now I have told you all." 

" My lord," replied Fletcher, *' I have not understood a word 
your lordship has been saying." * 

" Not understand me ! " exclaimed Lord Byron with a look 
of the utmost distress : " what a pity ! Then it is too late, — all 
is over ! " He afterwards, says Moore, tried to utter a few 
words, of which none were intelligible except " My sister — uiy 
child." 

When Fletcher returned to London, Lady Byron sent for 
him, and walked the room in convulsive struggles to repress 
her tears and sobs, while she over and over again strove to 
elicit something from him which should enlighten her upon 
what that last message had been ; but in vain : the gates of 
eternity were shut in her face, and not a word had passed to* tell 
her if he had repented. 

For all that. Lady Byron never doubted his salvation. Ever 
before her, during the few remaining years of her widowhood, . 
was the image of her husband, purified and ennobled, with the 
shadows of earth forever dissipated, the stains of sin forever 
removed ; " the angel in him," as she expressed it, " made per- 
fect, according to its divine ideal." 

Never has more divine strength of faith and love existed in 
woman. Out of the depths of her own loving and merciful 
nature, she gained such views of the divine love and mercy as 
made all hopes possible. There was no soul of whose future 
Lady Byron despaired, — such was her boundless faith in the 
redeeming power of love. 

After Byron's death, the life of this delicate creature — so 
frail in body that she seemed always hovering on the brink of 
the eternal world, yet so strong in spirit, and so unceasing in 
her various ministries of mercy — was a miracle of mingled 
weakness and strength. 



446 MISCELLANEOUS 'DOCUMENTS. 

To talk with her seemed to the writer of this sketch the 
nearest possible approach to talking with one of the spirits of 
the just made perfect. 

She was gentle, artless ; approachable as a little child ; with 
ready, outflowing sympathy for the cares and sorrows and 
interests of all who approached her ; with a naive and gentle 
playfulness, that adorned, without hiding, the breadth and 
strength of her mind ; and, above all, with a clear, divining, 
moral discrimination ; never mistaking wrong for right in the 
slightest shade, yet with a mercifulness that made allowance 
for every weakness, and pitied every sin. 

There was so much of Christ in her, that to have seen her 
seemed to be to have drawn near to heaven. She was one of 
those few whom absence cannot estrange from friends ; whose 
mere presence in this world seems always a help to every gener- 
ous thought, a strength to every good purpose, a comfort in 
every sorrow. 

Living so near the confines of the spiritual world, she 
seemed already to see into it': hence the words of comfort 
which she addressed to a friend who had lost a son : — 

" Dear friend, remember, as long as our loved ones are in 
God''s world, they are in ours.'''' 



It has been thought by some friends who have read the 
proof-sheets of the foregoing that the author should state more 
specifically her authority for these statements. 

The circumstances which led the writer to England at a 
certain time originated a friendship and correspondence with 
Lady Byron, which was always regarded as one of the greatest 
acquisitions of that visit. 

On the occasion of a second visit to England, in 1856, the 
writer received a note from Lady Byron,, indicating that she 
wished to have some private, confidential conversation upon 
important subjects, and inviting her, for that purpose, to spend 
a day with her at her country-seat near London. 

The writer went and spent a day with Lady Byron alone ; 



MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 447 

and the object of the invitation was explained to her. Lady 
Byron was in such a state of health, that her physicians had 
warned her that she had very little time to live. She was 
engaged in those duties and retrospections which every 
thoughtful person finds necessary, when coming deliberately, 
and with open eyes, to the boundaries of this mortal life. 

At that time, there was a cheap edition of Byron's works in 
contemplation, intended to bring Kis writings into circulation 
among the masses ; and the pathos arising from the story of his 
domestic misfortunes was one great means relied on for giving 
it currency. 

Under these circumstances, some of Lady Byron's friends 
had proposed the question to her, whether she had not a respon- 
sibility to society for the triith ; whether she did right to allow 
these writings to gain influence over the popular mind by giving 
a silent consent to what she Jcnew to be utter falsehoods. 

Lady Byron's whole life had been passed in the most heroic 
self-abnegation and self-sacrifice : and she had now to consider 
whether one more act of self-denial was not required of her 
before leaving this world ; namely, to declare the absolute 
truth', no matter at what expense to her owji feelings. 

For this reason, it was her desire to recount the whole 
history to a person of another country, and entirely out of the 
sphere of personal and local feelings which might be supposed 
to influence those in the country and station in life where the 
events really happened, in order that she might be helped by 
such a person's views in making up an opinion as to her own 
duty. 

The interview had almost the solemnity of a death-bed 
avowal. Lady Byron stated the facts which have been em- 
bodied in this article, and gave to the writer a paper containing 
a brief memorandum of the whole, with the dates affixed. 

We-have already spoken of that singular sense of the reality 
of the spiritual world which seemed to encompass Lady Byron 
during the last part of her life, and which made her words and 
actions seem more like those of a blessed being detached from 
earth than of an ordinary mortal. All her modes of looking 
at things, all her motives of action, all her involuntary exhi- 



44^ MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 



bitions of emotion, were so high above any common level, 
and so entirely regulated by the most unworldly causes, that it 
would seem difficult to make the ordinary world understand 
exactly how the thing seemed to lie before her mind. What 
impressed the writer more strongly than any thing else was 
Lady Byron's perfect conviction that her husband was now a 
redeemed spirit ; that he looked back with pain and shame 
and regret on all that was unworthy in his past life ; and that, 
if he could speak or could act in the case, he would desire to 
prevent the further circulation of base falsehoods, and of 
seductive poetry, which had been made the vehicle of morbid 
and unworthy passions. 

Lady Byron's experience had led her to apply the powers of 
her strong philosophical mind to the study of mental pathology : 
and she had become satisfied that the solution of the painful 
problem which first occurred to her as a young wife, was, after 
all, the true one ; namely, that Lord Byron had been one of 
those unfortunately constituted persons in whom the balance 
of nature is so critically hung, that it is always in danger of 
dipping towards insanity; and that, in certain periods oC his 
life, he was so far under the influence of mental disorder as not 
to be fully responsible for his actions. 

She went over with a brief and clear analysis the history of 
his whole life as she had thought it out during the lonely 
musings of her widowhood. She dwelt on the ancestral causes 
that gave him a nature of exceptional and dangerous suscepti- 
bility. She went through the mismanagements of his child- 
hood, the history of his school-days, the influence of the 
ordinary school-course of classical reading on such a mind as 
his. She sketched boldly and clearly the internal life of the 
young men of the time, as she, with her purer eyes, had looked 
through it ; and showed how habits, which, with less susceptible 
fibre and coarser strength of nature, were tolerable for his com- 
panions, were deadly to him, unhinging his nervous system, and 
intensifying the dangers of ancestral proclivities. Lady Byron 
expressed » the feeling too, that the Calvinistic theology, as 
heard in Scotland, had proved in his case, as it often does in 
certain minds, a subtle poison. He never could either dis- 



MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 449 

believe or become reconciled to it ; and the sore problems it 
proposes imbittered his spirit against Christianity. 

" The worst of it is, I do believe,^'' he would often say with 
violence, when he had been employing all his powers of reason, 
wit, and ridicule upon these subjects. 

Through all this sorrowful history was to be seen, not the 
care of a slandered woman to make her story good, but the 
pathetic anxiety of a mother, who treasures every ])article of 
hope, every intimation of good, in the son whom she cannot 
cease to love. With indescribable resignation, she dwelt on 
those last hours, those words addressed to her, never to be 
understood till repeated in eternity. 

But all this she looked upon as forever past ; believing, that, 
with the dropping of the earthly life, these morbid impulses 
and influences ceased, and that higher nature which he often 
so beautifully expressed in his poems became the triumphant 
one. 

While speaking on this subject, her pale, ethereal face 
became luminous with a heavenly radiance : there was some- 
thing so sublime in her belief in the victory of love over evil, 
that faith with her seemed to have become sight. She seemed 
so clearly to perceive the divine ideal of the man she had loved, 
and for whose salvation she had been called to suffer and 
labor and pray, that all memories of his past unworthiness fell* 
away, and were lost. 

Her love was never the doting fondness of weak women ; it 
was the appreciative and discriminating love by which a higher 
nature recognized godlike capabilities under all the dust and 
defilement of misuse and passion : and she never doubted that 
the love which in her was so strong, that no injury or insult 
could shake it, was yet stronger in the God who made her 
capable of such a devotion, and that in him it was accompanied 
by power to subdue all things to itself. 

The writer was so impressed and excited by the whole scene 
and recital, that she begged for two or three days to deliberate 
before forming any opinion. She took the memorandum with 
her, returned to London, and gave a day or two to the con- 
sideration of the subject. The decision which she made was 
29 



450 MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 

chiefly influenced by her reverence and affection for Lady 
Byron. She seemed so frail, she had suffered so much, she 
stood at such a height above the comprehension of the coarse 
and common world, that the author had a feeling that it would 
almost be like violating a shrine to ask her to come forth from 
the sanctuary of a silence where she had so long abode, and 
plead her cause. She wrote to Lady Byron, that while this act 
of justice did seem to be called for, and to be in some respects 
most desirable, yet, as it would involve so much that was 
painful to her, the writer considered that Lady Byron would be 
entirely justifiable in leaving the truth to be disclosed after her 
death ;• and recommended that all the facts necessary should be 
put in the hands of some person, to be so published. 

Years passed on. Lady Byron lingered four years after 
this interview, to the wonder of her physicians and all her 
friends. 

After Lady Byron's death, the writer looked anxiously, 
hoping to see a Memoir of the person whom she considered the 
most remarkable woman that England has produced in the 
century. No such Memoir has appeared on the part of her 
friends ; and the mistress of Lord Byron has the ear of the. 
public, and is sowing far and wide unworthy slanders, which 
are eagerly gathered up and read by an undiscriminating com- 
Jnunity. 

There may be family reasons in England which prevent 
Lady Byron's friends from speaking. But Lady Byron has an 
American name and an American existence ; and reverence for 
pure womanhood is, we think, a national characteristic of the 
American ; and, so far as this country is concerned, we feel that 
the public should have this refutation of the slanders of the 
Countess Guiccioli's book. 



MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 45 I 



LORD LINDSAY'S LETTER TO "THE LONDON 
TIMES." 

TO THE EDITOR OF " THE TIMES." 

Sir, — I have waited in expectation of a categorical denial 
of the horrible charge brought by Mrs. Beecher Stowe against 
Lord Byron and his sister on the alleged authority of the late 
•Lady Byron. Such denial has been only indirectly given by the 
letter of Messrs. Wharton and Fords in your impression of 
yesterday. That letter is sufficient to prove that Lady Byron 
never contemplated the use made of her name, and that her 
descendants and representatives disclaim any countenance of 
Mrs. B. Stowe's article ; but it does not specifically meet Mrs. 
Stowe's allegation, that Lady Byron, in conversing with her 
thirteen years ago, affirmed the charge now before us. It re- 
mains open, therefore, to a scandal-loving world, to credit the 
calumny through the advantage of this flaw, involuntary, I 
believe, in the answer produced against it. My object in 
addressing you is to supply that deficiency by proving that 
what is now stated on Lady Byron's supposed authority is at 
variance, in all respects, with what she stated immediately after 
the separation, when every thing was fresh in her memt)ry in 
relation to the time during which, according to Mrs. B. Stowe, 
she believed that Byron and his sister were living together in, 
guilt. I publish this evidence with reluctance, but in obedience 
to that higher obligation of justice to the voiceless and defence- 
less dead which bids me break through a reserve that other- 
wise I should have held sacred. The Lady Byron of i8i8 
would, I am certain, have sanctioned my doing so, had she fore- 
seen the present unparalleled occasion, and the bar that the 
conditions of her will present (as I infer from Messrs. Wharton 
.and Fords' letter) against any fuller communication. Calumnies 
such as the present sink deep and with rapidity into the public 
mind, and are not easily eradicated. The fame of one of our 
greatest poets, and that of the kindest and truest and most 
constant friend that Byron ever had, is at stake ; and it will 
not do to wait for revelations from the fountain-head, which are 
not promised, and possibly may never reach us. 



452 MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 

The late Lady Anne Barnard, who died in 1825, a contem- 
porary and friend of Burke, Windliam, Dundas, and a host of 
the wise and good of that generation, and remembered in 
letters as the authoress of " Auld Robin Gray," had known the 
late Lady Byron from infancy, and toolc a warm interest in her ; 
holding Lord Byron in corresponding repugnance, not to say 
prejudice, in consequence of what she believed to be his harsh 
and cruel treatment of her young friend. I transcribe the fol- 
lowing passages, and a letter from Lady Byron herself (written 
in 1 81 8) from ricordl, or private family memoirs, in Lady 
Anne's autograph, now before me. I include the letter, because, 
although treating only in general terms of the matter and 
causes of the separation, it affords collateral evidence bearing 
strictly upon the point of the credibility of the charge now in 
question : — • 

" The separation of Lord and Lady Byron astonished the 
world, which believed him a reformed man as. to his habits, and 
a becalmed man as to his remorses. He had written nothing 
that appeared after his marriage till the famous ' Fare thee well,' 
which had the power of compelling those to pity the writer 
who were not well aware that he was not the unhappy person 
he affected to be. Lady Byron's misery was whispered soon 
after her marriage and his ill usage ; but no word transpired, 
no sign escaped, from her. She gave birth, shortly, to a 
daughter ; and when she went, as soon as she was recovered, 
on a visit to her father's, taking her little Ada with her, no one 
knew that it was to return to her lord no more. At that period, 
a severe fit of illness had confined me to bed for two months. 
I heard of Lady Byron's distress ; of the pains he took to give 
a harsh impression of her character to the world. I wrote to 
her, and entreated her to come and let me see and hear her, if 
she conceived my sympathy or counsel could be any comfort to 
her. She came ; but what a tale was unfolded by this interest- 
ing young creature, who had so fondly hoped to have made a 
young man of genius and romance (as she supposed) happy ! 
They had not been an hour in the carriage which conveyed 
them from the church, when, breaking into a malignant sneer, 



MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 453 

' Oh ! what a dupe you have been to your imagination ! How 
is it possible a woman of your sense could form the wild hope 
of reforming me ? Many are the tears you will have to shed 
ere that plan is accomplished. It is enough for me that you 
are my wife for me to hate you. If you were the wife of any 
other man, I own you might have charms,' &c. I who listened 
was astonished. ' How could you go on after this,' said I, ' my 
dear ? Why did you not return to your father's ..'" — ' Because I 
had not "a conception he was in earnest ; because I reckoned it 
a bad jest, and told him so, — that my opinions of him were 
very different from his of himself, otherwise he would not find 
me by his side. He laughed it over when he saw me appear 
hurt ; and I forgot what had passed, till forced to remember it. 
I believe he was pleased with me, too, for a little while. I sup- 
pose it had escaped his memory that I was his wife.' But she 
described the happiness they enjoyed to have been unequal and 
perturbed. Her situation, in a short time, might have entitled 
her to some tenderness ; but she made no claim on him for 
any. He sometimes reproached her for the motives that had 
induced her to marry him : all was * vanity, the vanity of Miss 
Milbanke carrying the point of reforming Lord Byron ! He 
always knew her inducements ; her pride shut her eyes to his : 
he wished -to build up his character and his fortunes ; both were 
somewhat deranged : she had a high name, and would- have a 
f;:>i-tune worth his attention, — let her look to that for his 
motives ! ' — ' O Byron, Byron ! ' she said, ' how you desolate 
me ! ' He would then accuse himself of being mad, and 
throw himself on the ground in a frenzy, which she believed 
was affected to conceal the coldness and malignity of his heart, 
— an affectation which at that time never failed to meet with 
the tenderest commiseration. I could find by some impli- 
cations, not followed up by me, lest she might have condemned 
herself afterwards for her involuntary disclosures, that he soon 
attempted to corrupt her principles, both with respect to l\er 
own conduct and her latitude for his. She saw the precipice 
on which she stood, and kept his sister with her as much as 
possible. He returned in the evenings from the haunts of vice, 
where he made her understand he had been, with manners so 



454 MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 

profligate ! ' O the wretch ! ' said I. ' And had he no moments 
of remorse ? ' — ' Sometimes he appeared to have them. One 
night, coming home from one of his lawless parties, he saw me 
so indignantly collected, and bearing all with s.uch a determined 
calmness, that a rush of remorse seemed to come over him. 
He called himself a monster, though his sister was present, and 
threw himself in agony at my feet. "I could not — no — I 
could not forgive him such injuries. He had lost me forever ! " 
Astonished at the return of virtue, my tears, I believe, flowed 
over his face, and I said, " Byron, all is forgotten : never, 
never, shall you hear of it more ! " He started up, and, folding 
his arms while he looked at me, burst into laughter. " What 
do you mean ? " said I. " Only a philosophical experiment ; 
that's all," said he. " I wished to ascertain the value of your 
resolutions." ' I need not say more of this prince of duplicity, 
except that varied were his methods of rendering her wretched, 
even to the last. When her lovely little child was born, and it 
was laid beside its mother on the bed, and he was informed he 
might see his daughter, after gazing at it with an exulting 
smile, this was the ejaculation that broke from him : ' Oh, what 
an implement of torture have I acquired in you ! V Such he 
rendered it by his eyes and manner,' keeping her i^fe^perpetual 
alarm for its safety when in his presence. ^Bj^Riis reads 
madder than I believe he was : but she had ^j^^B^ made up 
her mind to disbelieve his pretended insanity,^^n conceived it 
best to intrust her secret with the excellent Dr. Baillie ; telling 
him all that seemed to regard the state of her husband's mind, 
and letting his advice regulate her conduct. Baillie doubted of 
his derangement ; but, as he did not reckon his own opinion 
infallible, he wished her to take precautions as if her husband 
was so. He recommended her going to the country, but to 
give him no suspicion of her intentions of remaining there, and, 
for a short time, to show no coldness in her letters, till she 
could better ascertain his state. She went, regretting, as she 
told me, to wear any semblance but the truth. A short time 
disclosed the story to the world. He acted the part of a man 
driven to despair by her inflexible resentment and by the arts 
of a governess (once a servant in the family) who hated him. 



MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 455 

I will give you," proceeds Lady Anne, " a few paragraphs 
transcribed from one of Lady Bjz^^n's own letters to me. It is 
sorrowful to think, that, in,at"^very little time, this young and 
amiable creature, wise, .>patient, and feeling, will have her 
character mistaken by^very one who reads Byron's works. To 
rescue her from .tWs, I preserved her letters ; and, when she 
afterwards expr|^ed' a fear that any thing of her writings 
should ever fiBrinto hands to injure him (I suppose she meant 
by publication), I safely assured her that it never should. But 
here this letter shall be placed, a sacred record in her favor, 
unknown to herself: — 

" ' I am a very incompetent judge of the impression which 
the last canto of " Childe Harold " may produce on the minds 
of indifferent readers. It contains the usual trace of a con- 
science restlessly awake ; though his object has been too long to 
aggravate its burden, as if it could thus be oppressed into 
eternal stupor. I will hope, as you do, that it survives for his 
ultimate good. It was the acuteness of his remorse, impenitent 
in its character, which so long seemed to demand from my 
compassion to spare every semblance of reproach, evei-y look 
of grief, which might have said to his conscience, " You have 
made me wretched." I am decidedly of opinion that he is 
responsible. He has wished to be thought partially deranged, 
or on the brink of it, to perplex observers, and prevent them 
from tracing effects to their real caitses through all the intrica- 
cies of his conduct. I was, as I told you, at one time the dupe 
of his acted insanity, and clung to the former delusions in 
regard to the motives that concerned me personally, till the 
whole system was laid bare. He is the absolute monarch of 
words, and uses them, as Bonaparte did lives, for conquest, 
without more regard to their intrinsic value ; considering them 
only as ciphers, which must derive all their import from the 
situation in which he places them, and the ends to which he 
adapts them with such consummate skill. Why, then, you will 
say, does he not employ them to give a better color to his own 
character ? Because he is too good an actor to over-act, or to 
assume a moral garb which it would be easy to strip off. In 



456 MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 

rep^ard to his poetry, egotism is the vital principle of his imagi- 
nation, which it is difficult for him to kindle on any subject 
\vith which his own character and interests are not identified : 
but by the introduction of fictitious incidents, by change of 
scene or time, he has enveloped his poetical disclosures in a 
system impenetrable except to a very few ; and his consta'U 
desire of creating a sensation makes him not averse to be the 
object of wonder and curiosity, even though accompanied by 
some dark and vague suspicions. Nothing has contributed 
more to the misunderstanding of his real character than the 
lonely grandeur in which he shrouds it, and his affectation of 
being above mankind, when he exists almost in their voice. 
The romance of his sentiments is another feature of this mask 
of state. I know no one more habitually destitute of that 
enthusiasm he so beautifully expresses, and to which he can 
work up his fancy chiefly by contagion. I had heard he was 
the best of brothers, the most generous . of friends ; and I 
thought such feelings only required to be warmed and cherished 
into more diffusive benevolence. Though these opinions are 
eradicated, and could never return but with the decay of 
my memory, you will not wonder if there are still moments 
when the association of feelings which arose from them soften 
and sadden my thoughts. But I have not thanked you, dearest 
Lady Anne, for your kindness in regard to a i:)rincipal object, — 
that of rectifying false impressions. I trust you understand my 
wishes, which never were to injure Lord Byron in any way : 
for, though he would not suffer me to remain his wife, he cannot 
prevent me from continuing his friend ; and it was from con- 
sidering myself as such that I silenced the accusations by 
which my own conduct might have been more fully justified. 
It is not necessary to speak ill of his heart in general : it is 
sufficient that to me it waS' hard and impenetrable ; that my 
own must have been broken before his could have been 
touched. I would rather represent this as mj' misfortune than 
as /lis guilt ; but surely that misfortune is not to be made my 
crime ! Such are my feelings : you will judge how to act. His 
allusions to me in"Childe Harold " are cruel and cold, Ir.it 
with such a semblance as to make me appear so, and to attract 



MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 45/ 

all sympathy to himself. It is said in this poem that hatred of 
him will be taught as a lesson to his child. I might appeal to 
all who have ever heard me speak of him, and still more to my 
own heart, to witness that there has been no moment when I 
have remembered injury otherwise than affectionately and 
sorrowfully. It is not my duty to give way to hopeless and 
wholly unrequited affection ; but, so long as I live, my chief 
struggle will probably be not to remember him too kindly. I 
do not seek the sympathy of the world ; but I wish to be 
known by those whose opinion is valuable, and whose kindness 
is dear to me. Among such, my dear Lady Anne, you will 
ever be remembered by your truly affectionate, 

"'A. Byron.'" 

It is the province of your readers, and of the world at large, 
to judge between the two testimonies now before them, — Lady 
Byron's in 1816 and 1818, and that put forward in 1869 by Mrs. 
B. Stowe, as communicated by Lady Byron thirteen years ago. 
In the face of the evidence now given, positive, negative, and 
circumstantial, there can be but two alternatives in the case ; 
either Mrs. B. Stowe must have entirely misunderstood Lady 
Byron, and been thus led into error and misstatement ; or we 
must conclude, that, under the pressure of a lifelong and secret 
sorrow, Lady Byron's mind had become clouded with an hallu- 
cination in respect of the particular point in question. 
* The reader will admire the noble but severe character dis- 
played in Lady Byron's letter ; but those who keep in view 
what her first impressions were, as above recorded, may 
probably place a more lenient interpretation than hers upon 
some of the incidents alleged to Byron's discredit. I shall 
conclude with some remarks upon his character, written shortly 
after his death by a wise, virtuous, and charitable judge, the 
late Sir Walter Scott, likewise in a letter to Lady Anne Bar- 
nard : — 

" Fletcher's account of poor Byron is extremely interesting. 
I had always a strong attachment to that unfortunate though 
most richly-gifted man, because I thought I saw that his virtues 



• 



45^^ MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 

(and he had many) were his own ; and his eccentricities the 
result of an irritable temperament, which sometimes approached 
nearly to mental disease. Those who are gifted with strong 
nerves, a regular temper, and habitual self-command, are not, 
perhaps, aware how much of what they may think virtue they 
owe to constitution ; and such are but too severe judges of 
men like Byron, whose mind, like a day of alternate storm and 
sunshine, is all dark shades and stray gleams of light, instead 
of the twilight gray which illuminates happier though less 
distinguished mortals. I always thought, that, when a moral 
proposition was placed plainly before Lord Byron, his mind 
yielded a pleased and willing assent to it ; but, if there was 
any side-view given in the way of raillery or otherwise, he was 
willing enough to evade conviction. ... It augurs ill for the 
cause of Greece that this master-spirit should have been with- 
drawn from their assistance just as he was obtaining a complete 
ascendency over their counsels. I have seen several letters 
from the Ionian Islands, all of which unite in speaking in the 
highest praise of the wisdom and temperance of his counsels, 
and the ascendency he was obtaining over the turbulent and 
ferocious chiefs of the insurgents. I have some verses written 
by him on his last birthday : they breathe a spirit of affection 
towards his wife, and a desire of dying in battle, which seems 
like an anticipation of his approaching fate." 



I remain, sir, your obedient servant, 
DoNECHT, Sept. 3. 



Lindsay. 



DR. FORBES WINSLOW'S LETTER TO "THE 
LONDON TIMES." ' 



TO THE EDITOR. 



Sir, — Your paper of the 4th of September, containing an 
able and deeply interesting " Vindication of Lord Byron," has 
followed me to this place. With the general details of the 
" True Story " (as it is termed) of Lady Byron's separation from 



MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 459 

her husband, as recorded in ",Macmillan's Magazine," T have no 
desire or intention to grapple. It is only with the hypothesis 
of insanity, as suggested by the clever writer of the " Vindica- 
tion " to account for Lady Byron's sad revelations to Mrs. 
Beecher Stowe, with which I propose to deal. I do not be- 
lieve that the mooted theory of mental aberration can, in this 
case, be for a moment maintained. If Lady Byron's statement 
of facts to Mrs. B. Stowe is to be viewed as the creation of a 
distempered fancy, a delusion or hallucination of an insane 
mind, at what part of the narrative are we to draw the bounda- 
ry-line between fact and delusion, sanity and insanity ? Where 
are we to fix the point d''appui of the lunacy ? Again : is the 
alleged " hallucination " to be considered as strictly confined to 
the idea that Lord Byron had committed the frightful sin of in- 
cest ? or is the whole of the " True Story " of her married life, 
as reproduced with such terrible minuteness by Mrs. Beecher 
Stowe, to be viewed as the delusion of a disordered fancy ? If 
Lady Byron was the subject of an " hallucination " with regard 
to her husband, I think it not unreasonable to conclude that the 
mental alienation existed on the day of her marriage. If this 
proposition be accepted, the natural inference will be, that the 
details of the conversation which Lady Byron represents to 
have occurred between herself and Lord Byron as soon as they 
entered the carriage never took place. Lord Byron is said to 
have remarked to Lady Byron, *' You might have prevented 
this (or -words to this effect) : you will now find that you have 
married a devil." Is this alleged conversation to be viewed as 
fact, ox fiction ? evidence oi sanity, or insanity ? Is the revelation 
which Lord Byron is said to have made to his wife of his " in- 
cestuous passion " another delusion, having no foundation ex- 
cept in his wife's disordered imagination .? Are his alleged 
attempts to justify to Lady Byron's mind the morale of the plea 
of " Continental latitude, — the good - humored marriage, in 
which complaisant couples mutually agree to form the cloak for 
each other's infidelities," — another morbid perversion of her 
imagination ? Did this conversation ever take place } It will be 
difficult to separate one part of the " True Story " from another, 
and maintain that this portion indicates insanity, and that por- 



460 MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 

tion represents sanity. If we accept the hypothesis of hallu- 
cination, we are bound to view the whole of Lady Byron's 
conversations with Mrs. B. Stowe, and the written statement 
laid before her, as the wild and incoherent representations of a 
lunatic. Qn the day when Lady Byron parted from her hus- 
band, did she enter his private room, and find him with the 
" object of his guilty passion " > and did he say, as they parted, 
" When shall we three meet again .'* " Is this to be considered 
as an actual occurrence, or as another form of hallucination ? 
It is quite inconsistent with the theory of Lady Byron's insanity 
to imagine that her delusion was restricted to the idea of his 
having committed " incest." In common fairness, we are bound 
to view the aggregate mental phenomena which she exhibited 
from the day of the marriage to their final separation and her, 
death. No person practically acquainted with the true charac- 
teristics of insanity would affirm, that, had this idea of "incest" 
been an insane hallucination, Lady Byron could, from the 
lengthened period which intervened between her unhappy mar- 
riage and death, have refrained from exhibiting her mental alien- 
ation, not only to her legal advisers and trustees, but to others, 
exacting no pledge of secrecy from them as to her disordered 
impressions. Lunatics do for a time, and for some special pur- 
pose, most cunningly conceal their delusions; but they have not 
the capacity to struggle for thirty-six years with "a frightful hal- 
lucination, similar to the one Lady Byron is alleged to have had, 
without the insane state of mind becoming obvious to those 
with whom they are daily associating. Neither is it consistent 
with experience to suppose, that, if Lady Byron had been a 
monomaniac, her state of disordered understanding would have 
been restricted to one hallucination. Her diseased brain, affect- 
ing the normal action of thought, would, in all probability, have 
manifested other symptoms besides those referred to of aberra- 
tion of intellect. 

During the last thirty years, I have not met with a case of 
insanity (assuming the hypothesis of hallucination) at all paral- 
lel with that of Lady Byron's. In my experience, it is unique. 
I never saw a patient with such a delusion. If it should be es- 
tablished, by the statements of those who are the depositors of 



, MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 461 

the secret (and they are now bound, in vindication of Lord By- 
ron's memory, to deny, if they have the power of doing so, this 
most frightful accusation), that the idea of incest did unhappily 
cross Lady Byron's mind prior to her finally leaving him, it no 
doubt arose from a most inaccurate knowledge of facts and per- 
fectly unjustifiable data, and was not, in the right psychological 
acceptation of the phrase, an insane hallucination. 

Sir, I remain your obedient servant, 

Forbes Winslow, M.D, 
Zaringerhof, Freburg-en-Breisgau, Sept. 8, 1869. 



EXTRACT FROM LORD BYRON'S EXPUNGED 
LETTER. 

TO MR. MURRAY. 

" Bologna, June 7, iSig. 

..." Before I left Venice, I had returned to you your late, and 
Mr. Hobhouse's sheets of * Juan.' Don't wait for further answers 
from me, but address yours to Venice as usual. I know nothing 
of my own movements. I may return there in a few days, or 
not for some time : all this depends on circumstances. I left 
Mr. Hoppner very well. My daughter Allegra is well too, and 
is growing pretty : her hair is growing darker, and her eyes are 
blue. Her temper and her ways, Mr. Hoppner says, are like 
mine, as well as her features : she will make, in that case, a 
manageable young lady. 

" I have never seen any thing of Ada, the little Electra of my 
Mycense. . . . But there will come a day of reckoning, even if 

I should not live to see it. I have at least seen shivered, 

who was one of my assassins. When that man was doing his 
worst to uproot my whole family, — tree, branch, and blossoms ; 
when, after taking my retainer, he went over to them ; when he 
was bringing desolation on my hearth, and destruction on my 
household gods, — did he think, that, in less than three years, a 
natural event, a severe domestic, but an expected and com- 
mon calamity, would lay his carcass in a cross-road, or stamp 



462 MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS, 

his name in a verdict of lunacy ? Did he (who in his sexage- 
nary . . .) reflect or consider what jjiy feelings must have been 
when wife and child and sister, and name and fame and country, 
were to be my sacrifice on his legal altar ? — and this at a moment 
when my health was declining, my fortune embarrassed, and my 
mind had been shaken by many kinds of disappointment ? while 
I was yet young, and might have reformed what might be wrong 
in my conduct, and retrieved what was perplexing in my affairs ? 
But he is in his grave, and — What a long letter 1 have scrib- 
bled ! " . . . • 



In order that the reader may measure the change of moral 
tone with regard to Lord Byron, wrought by the constant efforts 
of himself and his party, we give the two following extracts from 
" Blackwood." 

The first is " Blackwood " in 1819, just after the publication 
of " Don Juan : " the second is " Blackwood " in 1825. 

" In the composition of this work, there is, unquestionably, a 
more thorough and intense infusion of genius and vice, power 
and profligacy, than in any poem which had ever before been 
written in the English, or, indeed, in any other modern language. 
Had the wickedness been less inextricably mingled with the 
beauty and the grace and the strength of a most inimitable and 
incomprehensible Muse, our task would have been easy. * Don 
Juan ' is by far the most admirable specimen of the mixture of 
ease, strength, gayety, and seriousness, extant in the whole body 
of English poetry : the author has devoted his powers to the 
worst of purposes and passions ; and it increases his guilt and 
our sorrow that he has devoted them entire. 

" The moral strain of the whole poem is pitched in the lowest 
key. Love, honor, patriotism, religion, are mentioned only to 
be scoffed at, as if their sole resting-place were, or ought to be, 
in the bosoms of fools. It appears, in short, as if this misera- 
ble man, having exhausted every species of sensual gratification, 
having drained the cup of sin even to its bitterest dregs, were 
resolved to show us that he is no longer a human being, even 



MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 463 

in his frailties, but a cool, unconcerned fiend, laughing with a 
detestable glee over the whole of the better and worse elements 
of which human life is composed ; treating well-nigh with equal 
derision the most pure of virtues, and the most odious of vices ; 
dead alike to the beauty of the one, and the deformity of the 
other ; a mere heartless despiser of that frail but noble human- 
ity, whose type was never exhibited in a shape of more deplora- 
ble degradation than in his own contemptuously distinct deline- 
ation of himself. To confess to his Maker, and weep over in 
secret agonies the wildest and most fantastic transgressions of 
heart and mind, is the part of a conscious sinner, in whom sin 
has not become the sole principle of life and action ; but to 
lay bare to the eye of man and of woman all the hidden con- 
vulsions of a wicked spirit, and to do all this without one symp- 
tom of contrition, remorse, or hesitation, with a calm, careless 
ferociousness of contented and satisfied depravity, — this was an 
insult which no man of genius had ever before dared to put 
upon his Creator or his species. Impiously railing against his 
God, madly and meanly disloyal to his sovereign and his coun- 
try, and brutally outraging all the best feelings of female honor, 
affection, and confidence, how small a part of chivalry is that 
which remains to the descendant of the Byrons ! — a gloomy 
visor and a deadly weapon ! 

" Those who are acquainted (as who is not ?) with the main 
incidents in the private life of Lord Byron, and who have not 
seen this production, will scarcely believe that malignity should 
have carried him so far as to make him commence a filthy and 
impious poem with an elaborate satire on the character and 
manners of his wife, from whom, even by his own confession, 
he has been separated only in consequence of his own cruel and 
heartless misconduct. It is in vain for Lord Byron to attempt 
in any way to justify his own behavior in that affair ; and, now 
that he has so openly and audaciously invited inquiry and 
reproach, we do not see any good reason why he should not 
be plainly told so by the general voice of his countrymen. Ir 
would not be an easy matter to persuade any man who has any 
knowledge of the nature of wonun, that a female such as Lord 
Byron has himself described his wife to be would rashly or 



464 MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 

hastily or lightly separate herself from the love with .which 
she had once been inspired for such a man as he is or was. 
Had he not heaped insult upon insult, and scorn upon scorn, 
had he not forced the iron of his contempt into her very soul, 
there is no woman of delicacy and virtue, as he admitted Lady 
Byron to be, who would not have hoped all things, and suffered 
all things, from one, her love of whom must have been inwoven 
with so many exalting elements of delicious pride, and more 
delicious humility. To offend the love of such a woman was 
wrong, but it might be forgiven ; to desert her was unmanly, 
but he might have returned, and wiped forever from her eyes 
the tears of her desertion : but to injure and to desert, and then 
to turn back and wound her widowed privacy with unhallowed 
strains of cold-blooded mockery, was brutally, fiendishly, inex- 
piably mean. For impurities there might be some possibility 
of pardon, were they supposed to spring only from the reckless 
buoyancy of young blood and fiery passions.; for impiety there 
might at least be pity, were it visible that the misery of the 
impious soul equalled its darkness : but for offences such as 
this, which cannot proceed either from the madness of sudden 
impulse or the bewildered agonies of doubt, but which speak 
the wilful and determined spite of an unrepenting, unsoftened, 
smiling, sarcastic, joyous sinner, there can be neither pity nor 
pardon. Our knowledge that it is committed by one of the most 
powerful intellects our island ever has produced lends intensity 
a thousand-fold to the bitterness of our indignation. Every 
high thought that was ever kindled in our breasts by the Muse 
of Byron, every pure and lofty feeling that ever responded from 
within us to the sweep of his majestic inspirations, every re- 
membered moment of admiration and enthusiasm, is up in arms 
against him. We look back with a mixture of wrath and scorn 
to the delight with which we suffered ourselves to be filled by 
one, who, all the while he was furnishing us with delight, must, 
we cannot doubt it, have* been mocking us with a cruel mock- 
ery ; less cruel only, because less peculiar, than that with which 
he has now turned him from the lurking-place of his selfish and 
polluted exile to pour the pitiful chalice of his contumely on 
the surrendered devotion of a virgin bosom, and the holy hopes 



MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 465 

• 

of the mother of his child. It is indeed a sad and a humiliating 
thing to know, that, in the same year, there proceeded from the 
same pen two productions in all things so different as the fourth 
canto of ' Childe Harold ' and this loathsome ' Don Juan.' 

" We have mentioned one, and, all will admit, the worst in- 
stance of the private malignity which has been embodied in so 
many passages of ' Don Juan ; ' and we are quite sure the 
lofty-minded and virtuous men whom Lord Byron has debased 
himself by insulting will close the volume which contains their 
own injuries, with no feelings save those of pity for him that 
has inflicted them, and for her who partakes so largely in the 
same injuries." — Attgitst, 1819. 



" BLACKWOOD," — iterum. 

" We shall, like all others who say any thing about Lord By- 
ron, begin, sans apologie, with his personal character. This is the 
great object of attack, the constant theme of open vituperation 
to one set, and the established mark for all the petty but deadly 
artillery of sneers, shrugs, groans, to another. Two widely 
different matters, however, are generally, we might say univer- 
sally, mixed up here, — the personal character of the man, as 
proved by his com-se of life ; and his personal character, as 
revealed in or guessed from his books. Nothing can be more 
unfair than the style in which tliis mixture is made use of. Is 
there a noble sentiment, a lofty thought, a sublime conception, 
in the book .? ' Ah, yes ! ' is the answer. * But what of that .'' 
It is only the roue Byron that speaks ! ' Is a kind, a 'generous 
action of the man mentioned ? ' Yes, yes ! ' comments the 
sage ; * but only remember the atrocities of " Don Juan : " 
depend on it, this, if it be true, must have been a mere freak 
of caprice, or perhaps a bit of vile hypocrisy.' Salvation is 
thus shut out at either entrance : the poet damns the man, and 
the man the poet. 

" Nobody will suspect us of being so absurd as to suppose 
that it is possible for people to draw no inferences as to the 

30 



466 MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 



character of an author from his book, or to shut entirely out 
of view, in judging of a book, that which they may happen, to 
knozo about the man who writes it. The cant of the day sup- 
looses such things to be practicable ; but they are not. But 
what we complain of and scorn is the extent to which they are 
carried in the case of this particular individual, as compared 
with others ; the impudence with which things are at once 
assumed to be facts in regard to his private history ; and the 
absolute unfairness of never arguing from his writings to him, 
but for evil. 

" Take^he man, in the first place, as unconnected, in so far 
as we can thus consider him, with his works ; and ask. What, 
after all, are the bad things we know of him ? Was he dis- 
honest or dishonorable ? had he ever done any thing to forfeit, 
or even endanger, his rank as a gentleman ? Most assuredly, 
no such accusations have ever been maintained against Lord 
Byron the private nobleman, although something of the sort 
may have been insinuated against the author. ' But he was 
such a profligate in his morals, that his name cannot be men- 
tioned with any thing like tolerance.' Was he so, indeed .-* 
We should like extremely to have the catechising of the in- 
dividual 7nan who says so. That he indulged in sensual vices, 
to some extent, is certain, and to be regretted and condemned. 
But was he worse, as to such matters, than the enormous 
majority of those who join in the cry of horror upon this occa- 
sion ? We most assuredly believe exactly the reverse ; and we 
rest our belief upon very plain and intelligible grounds. First, 
we hold it impossible that the majority of mankind, or that any 
thing beyond a very small minority, are or can be entitled to 
talk of sensual profligacy as having formed a part of the life 
and character of the man, who, dying at six and thirty, 
bequeathed a collection of works such as Byron's to the world. 
Secondly, we hold it impossible, that laying the extent of his 
intellectual labors out of the question, and looking only to the 
nature of the intelleQj; which generated, and delighted in gene- 
rating, such beautiful and noble conceptions as are to be found 
in almost all Lord Byron's works, — we hold it impossible that 
very many men can be at once capable of comprehending these 



MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 46/ 

conceptions, and entitled to consider sensual profligacy as 
having formed the principal, or even a principal, trait in Lord 
Byron's character. Thirdly, and lastly, we have never been 
able to hear any one fact established which could prove Lord 
Byron to deserve anything like the degree or even, kind of 
odium which has, in regard to matters of this class, been 
heaped upon his name. We have no story of base unmanly 
seduction, or false and villanous intrigue, against him, — none 
whatever. It seems to us quite clear, that, if he had been at 
all what is called in society an unprincipled sensualist, there 
must have been many such stories, authentic and authenticated. 
But there are none such, — absolutely none. His name has 
been coupled with the names of three, four, or more women of 
some rank : but what kind of women ? Every one of them, in 
the first place, about as old as himself in years, and therefore 
a great deal older in character ; every one of them utterly 
battered in reputation long before he came into contact with 
them, — licentious, unprincipled, characterless women. What 
father has ever reproached him with the ruin of his daughter ? 
What husband has denounced him as the destroyer of his 
peace ? 

" Let us not be mistaken. We are not defending the 
offences of which Lord Byron unquestionably was guilty ; 
neither are we finding fault with those, who, after looking 
honestly within and around themselves, condemn those offences, 
no matter how severely : but we are speaking of society in 
general as it now exists ; and we say that there is vile hypocrisy 
in the tone in which Lord Byron is talked of HAere. We say, 
that, although all offences against purity of life are miserable 
things, and condemnable things, the degrees of guilt attached to 
different offences of this class are as widely different as are the 
degrees of guilt between an assault and a murder ; and we con- 
fess our belief, that no man of Byron's station and age could 
have run much risk in gaining a very bad name in society, had 
a course of life similar (in so far as we know any thing of that) 
to Lord Byron's been the only thing chargeable against him. 

" The last poem he wTote was produced upon his birthday, 
not many weeks before he died. We consider it as one of the 



468 MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 

finest and most touching effusions of his noble genius. We 
tliink he who reads it, and can ever after bring himself to 
regard even the worst transgressions that have been charged 
against Lord Byron with any feelings but those of humble sor- 
row and manly pity, is not deserving of the name of man. The 
deep and passionate struggles with the inferior elements of his 
nature (and ours) which it records ; the lofty thirsting afier 
purity ; the heroic devotion of a soul half weary of life, because 
unable to believe in its own powers to live up to what it so 
intensely felt to be, and so reverentially honored as, the right ; 
the whole picture of this mighty spirit, often darkened, but never 
sunk, — often erring, but never ceasing to see and to worship the 
beauty of virtue ; the repentance of it ; the anguish ; the aspira- 
tion, almost stifled in despair, — the whole of this is such a whole, 
that we are sure no man can read these solemn verses too often ; 
and we recommend them for repetition, as the best and most 
conclusive of all possible answers whenever the name of 
Byron is insulted by those who permit themselves to forget 
nothing, either in his life or in his writings, but t^e good." — 
[1825.] 



The following letters of Lady Byron's are reprinted from the 
Memoirs of H. C. Robinson. They are given that the reader 
may form some judgment of the strength and activity of her 
mind, and the elevated class of subjects upon which it habitually 
dwelt. 

LADY BYRON TO H. C. R. 

"Dec. 31, 1853. 

" Dear Mr. Crabb Robinson, — I have an inclination, if I 
were not afraid of trespassing on your time (but you can put my 
letter by for any leisure moment), to enter upon the history of 
a character which I think less appreciated than it ought to be. 
Men, I observe, do not understand men in certain points, with- 
out a woman's interpretation. Those points, of course, relate 
to feelings. 



MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 469 

*' Here is a man taken by most of those who come in his way 
either for Dry-as-dust, Matter-of-fact, or for a ' vain visionary.' 
There are, doubtless, some defective or excessive characteristics 
which give rise to those impressions. 

" My acquaintance was made, oddly enough, with him twenty- 
seven years ago. A pauper said to me of him, * He's the poor 
man's doctor.'' Such a recornmendation seemed to me a good 
one : and I also knew that his organizing'liead had formed the 
first district society in England (for Mrs. Fry told me she could 
not have effected it without his aid) ; yet he has always ignored 
his own share of it. I felt in him at once the curious combina- 
tion of the Cliristian and the cynic, — of reverence for man, and 
contempt of men. It was then an internal war, but one in 
which it was evident to me that the holier cause would be vic- 
torious, because there was deep belief, and, as far as I could 
learn, a blameless and benevolent life. He appeared only to 
want sunshine. It was a plant which could not be brought to 
perfection in darkness. He had begun life by the most painful 
conflict between filial duty and conscience, — a large provision 
in the church secured for him by his father ; but he could not 
si^n. There was discredit, as you know, attached to such scru- 
ples. 

" He was also, when I first knew him, under other circum- 
stances of a nature to depress him, and to make him feel that 
he was unjustly treated. The gradual removal of these called 
forth his better nature in thankfulness to God. Still the old 
misanthropic modes of expressing himself obtruded themselves 
at times. This passed in '48 between him and Robertson. 
Robertson said to me, ' I want to know something about 
ragged schools.' I replied, 'You had better ask Dr. King: 
he knows more about them.' — * I .? ' said Dr. King. *I 
take care to know nothing of ragged schools, lest they should 
make me ragged.' Robertson did not see through it.' Perhaps 
I had been taught to understand such suicidal speeches by my 
cousin. Lord Melbourne. * 

" The example of Christ, imperfectly as it may be understood 
by him, has been ever before his eyes : he woke to the thought 
of following it, and he went to rest consoled or rebuked by it. 



470 MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 

After nearly thirty years of intimacy, I may, without presump- 
tion, form that opinion. There is something pathetic to me in 
seeing any one so unknown. Even the other medical friends 
of Robertson, when I knew that Dr. King felt a woman's 
tenderness, said on one occasion to him, ' But we know that 
you, Dr. King, are above all feeling.^ 

" If I have made the character more consistent to you by 
putting in these bits of mosaic, my pen will not have been ill 
employed, nor unpleasingly to you. 

" Yours truly, 

"A. Noel Byron." 

LADY BYRON TO H. C. R. 

"Brighton, Nov. 15, 1854. 

. " The thoughts of all this public and private suffering have 
taken the life out of my pen when I tried to write on matters 
which would otherwise have been most interesting to me : these 
seemed the shadows, that the stern reality. It is good, how- 
ever, to be drawn out of scenes in which one is absorbed most 
unprofitably, and to have one's natural interests revived by such 
a letter as I have to thank you for, as well as its predecessor. 
You touch upon the very points which do interest me the most, 
habitually. The change of form, and enlargement of design, in 
' The Prospective ' had led me to express to one of the promoters 
of that object my desire to contribute. The religious crisis is 
instant ; but the man for it 1 The next best thing, if, as I believe, 
he is not to be found in England, is an association of such men 
as are to edit the new periodical. An address delivered by 
Freeman Clarke at Boston, last May, makes me think him bet- 
ter fitted for a leader than any other of the religious ' Free- 
thinkers.' I wish I could send you my one copy ; but you do 
not need it, and others do. His object is the same as that of 
the ' Alliance Universelle : ' only he is still more free from 
' partialism ' (his own word)^n his aspirations and practical 
suggestions with respect to an ultimate * Christian synthesis.' 
He so far adopts Comte's theory as to speak of religion it- 
self under three successive aspects, historically, — i. Thesis; 



MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 47 1 

2. Antithesis ; 3. Synthesis. I made his acquaintance in Eng- 
land ; and he inspired confidence at once by his brave inde- 
pendence [incomptis capillis) and self- z/«consciousn ess. J. J. 
Tayler's address of last month follows in the same path, — all 
in favor of the ' irenics,' instead of polemics. 

" The answer which you gave me so fully and distinctly to 
the questions I proposed for your consideration was of value in 
turning to my view certain aspects of the case which I had not 
before observed. I had begun a second attack on your patience, 
when all was forgotten in the news of the day." 

LADY BYRON TO H. C. R. 

" Brighton, Dec. 25, 1854. 

" With J. J. T^yler, though almost a stranger to him, Lhave 
a peculiar reason for sympathizing. A book of his was a treas- 
ure to my daughter on her death-bed.* 

" I must confess to intolerance of opinion as to these two 
points, — eternal ew\\ in any form, and (involved in it) eternal 
suffering. To believe in these would take away my God, who 
is all-loving. With a God with whom omnipotence and omni- 
science were all, evil might be eternal ; but why do I say to you 
what has been better said elsewhere .'' " 

LADY BYRON TO H. C. R. 

" Brighton, Jan. 31, 1855. 
. . . '* The great difficulty in respect to * The Review ' t seems 
to be to settle a basis, inclusive and exclusive ; in short, a 
boundary question. From what you said, I think you agreed 
with me, that a latitudinarian Christianity ought to be the 
character of the periodical ; but the depth of the roots should 
correspond with the width of the branches of that tree of 
knowledge. Of some of those minds one might say, ' They 

* Probably " The Christian Aspects of Faith and Duty." Mr. Tayler has 
also written " A Retrospect of the Religious Life of England." 
t "The National Review." 



4/2 MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 

have no root ; ' and then, the richer the foliage, the more danger 
that the trunk will fall. * Grounded in Christ ' has to me a 
most practical significance and value. I, too, have anxiety 
about a friend (Miss Carpenter) whose life is of public im- 
portance : she, more than any of the English reformers, un- 
less Nash and Wright, has found the art of drawing out the 
good of human natijre, and proving its existence. She makes 
these discoveries by the light of love. I hope she may re- 
cover, from to-day's report. The object of a Reformatory in 
Leicester has just been secured at a county meeting. . . . 
Now the desideratum is well-qualified masters and mistresses. 
If you hear of such by chance, pray let me know. The 
regular schoolmaster is an extinguisher. Heart, and familiarity 
with the class to be educated, are all important. At home 
and abroad, the evidence is conclusive on that point ; for I have 
for many years attended to such experiments in various parts 
of Europe. ' The Irish Quarterly ' has taken up the subject 
with rather more zeal than judgment. I had hoped that a 
sound and temperate exposition of the facts might form an 
article in the ' Might-have-been Review.' " 



LADY BYRON TO H. C, R. 

" Brighton, Feb. 12, 1855. 

" I have at last earned the pleasure of writing to you by 
having settled troublesome matters of little moment, except 
locally ; and I gladly take a wider range by sympathizing in 
your interests. There is, besides, no responsibility — for me 
at least — in canvassing the merits of Russell or Palmerston," 
but much in deciding whether the ' village politician ' Jack- 
son or Thompson shall be leader in the school and public- 
house. 

" Has not the nation been brought to a conviction that the 
system should be broken up ? and is Lord Palmerston, who has 
used it so long and so cleverly, likely to promote that object ? 

" But, whatever obstacles there may be in state affairs, that 
general persuasion must modify other departments of action 
and knowledge. ' Unroasted coffee ' will no longer be accepted 



MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 473 

under the official seal, — another reason for a new literary 
combination for distinct special objects, a review in which 
every separate article should be convergent. If, instead of the 
problem to make a circle pass through three given points, it 
were required to find the centre from which to describe a circle 
through any three articles in the ' Edinburgh ' or ' Westminster 
Review,' who would accomplish it ? Much force is lost for want 
of this one-mindedness amongst the contributors. It would 
not exclude variety or freedom in the unlimited discussion of 
means towards the ends unequivocally recognized. If St. 
Paul had edited a review, he might have admitted Peter as well 
as Luke or Barnabas. . . . 

" Ross gave us an exxellent sermon, yesterday, on * Hallow- 
ing the Name.' Though far from commonplace, it might have 
been delivered in any church. 

" We have had Fanny Kemble here last week. I only heard 
her ' Romeo and Juliet," — not less instructive, as her readings 
always are, than exciting ; for in her glass Shakspeare is a 
philosopher. I know her, and honor her for her truthfulness 
amidst all trials." 

LADY BYRON TO H. C. R. 

"Brighton, March 5, 1855. 
" I recollect only those passages of Dr. Kennedy's book 
which bear upon the opinions of Lord Byron. Strange as it 
may seem. Dr. Kennedy is most faithful where you doubt his 
being so. Not merely from casual expressions, but from the 
whole tenor of Lord Byron's feelings, I could not but conclude 
he was a believer in .the inspiration of the Bible, and had the 
gloomiest Calvinistic tenets. To that unhappy view of the re- 
lation of the creature to the Creator, I have always ascribed the 
misery of his life. ... It is enough for me to remember, that 
he who thinks his transgressions beyond /^ro-Zz/^/z^j-j (and such 
was his own deepest feeling) has righteousness beyond that of 
the self-satisfied sinner, or, perhaps, of the half-awakened. It 
was impossible for me to doubt, that, could he have been at once 
assured of pardon, his living faith in a moral duty, and love of 



474 MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 

virtue ('I love the virtues which I cannot claim'), would have 
conquered every temptation. Judge, then, how I must hate 
the creed which made him see God as an Avenger, not a 
Father ! My own impressions were just the reverse, but could 
have little weight ; and it was in vain to seek to turn his 
thoughts for long from that idee fixe with which he connected 
his physical peculiarity as a stamp. Instead of being made 
happier by any apparent good, he felt convinced that every 
blessing would be ' turned into a curse ' to him. Who, pos- 
sessed by such ideas, could lead a life of love and service to 
God or man ? They must, in a measure, realize themselves. 
'The worst of it is, I do believe,' he said. I, like all con- 
nected with him, was broken against the rock of predestina- 
tion. I may be pardoned for referring to his frequent expres- 
sion of the sentiment that I was only sent to show him the 
happiness he was forbidden to enjoy. You will now better 
understand why ' The Deformed Transformed ' is too painful 
to me for discussion. Since writing the above, I have read Dr. 
Granville's letter on the Emperor of Russia, some passages of 
which seem applicable to the prepossession I have described. 
I will not mix up less serious matters with these, which forty 
years have not made less than present still to me." 

LADY BYRON TO H. C. R. 

" Brighton, April 8, 1855. 
..." The book which has interested me most, lately, is 
that on * Mosaism,' translated by Miss Goldsmid, and which I 
read, as you will believe, without any Christian (unchristian?) 
prejudice. The missionaries of the Unity were always, from 
my childhood, regarded by me as in that sense the people ; and 
I believe they were true to that mission, though blind, intel- 
lectually, in demanding the crucifixion. The present aspect of 
Jewish opinions, as shown in that book, is all but Christian. 
The author is under the error of taking, as the representatives 
of Christianity, the Mystics, Ascetics, and Quietists ; and 
therefore he does not know how near he is to the true spirit of 
the gospel. If you should happen to see Miss Goldsmid, pray 



MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 475 

tell her what a great service I think she has rendered to us 
soi-disants Christians in translating a book which must make us 
sensible of the little we have done, and the much we have to 
do, to justify our preference of the later to the earlier dispen- 
sation." ... 

LADY BYRON TO H. C. R. 

"Brighton, April ii, 1855. 
"You appear to have more definite information respecting 
' The Review ' than I have obtained. ... It was also said that 
*The Review ' would, in fact, be * The Prospective ' amplified, 
— not satisfactory to me, because I have always thought that 
periodical too Unitarian, in the sense of separating itself from 
other Christian churches, if not by a high wall, at least by a 
wire-gauze fence. Now, separation is to me the atpeaig. The 
revelation through Nature never separates : it is the revelation 
through the Book which separates. Whewell and Brewster 
would have been one, had they not, I think, equally dimmed 
their lamps of science when reading their Bibles. As long as 
we think a truth detter for being shut up in a text, we are not 
of the wide-world religion, which is to include all in one fold : 
for that text will not be accepted by the followers of other 
books, or students of the same ; and separation will ensue. The 
Christian Scripture should be dear to us, not as the charter of 
a few, but of mankind ; and to fashion it into cages is to deny 
its ultimate objects. These thoughts hot, like the roll at break- 
fast, where your letter was so welcome an addition." 



THREE DOMESTIC POEMS BY LORD BYRON. 



FARE THEE WELL. 



Fare thee well ! and if forever, 
Still forever fare thee well ! 

Even though unforgiving, never 
'Gainst thee shall my heart rebel. 



476 MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 

Would that breast were bared before thee 
Where thy head so oft hath lain, 

While that placid sleep came o'er thee 
Which thou ne'er canst know again ! 

Would that breast, by thee glanced over, 
Every inmost thought could show ! 

Then thou wouldst at last discover 
'Twas not well to spurn it so. 

Though the world for this commend thee, 
Though it smile upon the blow, 

Even its praises must offend thee. 
Founded on another's woe. 

Though my many faults defaced me, 
Could no other arm be found. 

Than the one which once embraced me, 
To inflict a cureless wound ? 

Yet, oh ! yet, thyself deceive not : 
Love may sink by slow decay ; 

But, by sudden wrench, believe not 
Hearts can thus be torn away : 

Still thine own its life retaineth ; 

Still must mine, though bleeding, beat ; 
And the undying thought which paineth 

Is — that we no more may meet. 

These are words of deeper sorrow 
Than the wail above the dead : 

Both shall live, but every morrow 
Wake us from a widowed bed. 

And when thou wouldst solace gather. 
When our child's first accents flow, 

Wilt thou teach her to say <' Father," 
Though his care she must forego ? 



MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 47/ 

When her little hand shall press thee, 

When her lip to thine is pressed, 
Think of him whose prayer shall bless thee ; 

Think of him thy love had blessed. 

Should her lineaments resemble 

Those thou never more mayst see, 
Then thy heart will softly tremble 

With a pulse yet true to me. 

All my faults, perchance, thou knowest ; 

All my madness none can know : 
All my hopes, where'er thou goest, 

Wither ; yet with thee they go. 

Every feeling hath been shaken : 

Pride, which not a world could bow, 
Bows to thee, by thee forsaken ; 

Even my soul forsakes me now. 

But 'tis done : all words are idle ; 

Words from me are vainer still ; 
But the thoughts we cannot bridle 

Force their way without the will. 

Fare thee well ! — thus disunited, 

Torn from every nearer tie. 
Seared in heart, and lone and blighted, 

More than this I scarce can die. 



A SKETCH. 

Born in the garret, in the kitchen bred ; 
Promoted thence to deck her mistress' head ; 
Next — for some gracious service unexpressed, 
And from its wages only to be guessed — 
Raised from the toilette to the table, where 
Her wondering betters wait behind her chair. 



4/8 MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 



With eye unmoved, and forehead unabashed, 

She dines from off the plate she lately washed. 

Quick with the tale, and ready with the lie, 

The genial confidante and general spy. 

Who could, ye gods ! her next employment guess ? • 

An only infant's earliest governess ! 

She taught the child to read, and taught so well, 

That she herself, by teaching, learned to spell. 

An adept next in penmanship she grows, 

As many a nameless slander deftly shows : 

What she had made the pupil of her art, 

None know ; but that high soul secured the heart, 

And panted for the truth it could not hear. 

With longing breast and undeluded ear. 

Foiled was perversion by that youthful mind 

Which flattery fooled not, baseness could not blind, 

Deceit infect not, near contagion soil. 

Indulgence weaken, nor example spoil. 

Nor mastered science tempt her to look down 

On humbler talents with a pitying frown. 

Nor genius swell, nor beauty render vain, 

Nor envy ruffle to j-etaliate pain. 

Nor fortune change, pride raise, nor passion bow, 

Nor virtue teach austerity, till now. 

Serenely purest of her sex that live ; 

But wanting one sweet weakness, — to forgive ; 

Too shocked at faults her soul can never know, 

She deems that all could be like her below : 

Foe to all vice, yet hardly Virtue's friend ; 

For Virtue pardons those she would amend. 

But to the theme, now laid aside too long, — 
The baleful burthen of this honest song. 
Though all her former functions are no more, 
She rules the circle which she served before. 
If mothers — none know why — before her quake ; 
If daughters dread her for the mothers' sake ; 
If early habits — those false links, which bind 
At times the loftiest to the meanest mind — 



MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 4/9 



Have given her power too deeply to instil 

The angry essence of her deadly will ; 

If like a snake she steal within your walls 

Till the black slime betray her as she crawls ; 

If like a viper to the heart she wind, 

And leave the venom there she did not find, — 

What marvel that this hag of hatred works 

Eternal evil latent as she lurks, 

To make a Pandemonium where she dwells, 

And reign the Hecate of domestic hells ? 

Skilled by a touch to deepen scandal's tints 

With all the kind mendacity of hints. 

While mingling truth with falsehood, sneers with smiles, 

A thread of candor with a web of wiles ; 

A plain blunt show of briefly-spoken seeming, . 

To hide her bloodless heart's soul-hardened scheming ; 

A lip of lies ; a face formed to conceal. 

And, without feeling, mock at all who feel ; 

With a vile mask the Gorgon would disown ; 

A cheek of parchment, and an eye of stone. 

Mark how the channels of her yellow blood 

Ooze to her skin, and stagnate there to mud ! 

Cased like the centipede in saffron mail, 

Or darker greenness of the scorpion's scale, 

(For drawn from reptiles only may we trace 

Congenial colors in that soul or face,) — 

Look on her features ! and behold her mind 

As in a mirror of itself defined. 

Look on the picture ! deem it not o'ercharged ; 

There is no trait which might not be enlarged : 

Yet true to " Nature's journeymen," who made 

This monster when their mistress left off trade, 

This female dog-star of her little sky. 

Where all beneath her influence droop or die. 



O wretch without a tear, without a thought, 
Save joy above the ruin thou hast wrought ! 



480 MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 

The time shall come, nor long remote, when thou 
Shalt feel far more than thou inflictest now, — 
V Feel for thy vile self-loving self in vain, 
And turn thee howling in unpitied pain. 
May the strong curse of crushed affections light 
Back on thy bosom with reflected blight. 
And make thee, in thy leprosy of mind, 
As loathsome to thyself as to mankind, 
Till all thy self-thoughts curdle into hate 
Black as thy will for others would create ; 
Till thy hard heart be calcined into dust, 
And thy soul welter in its hideous crust ! 
Oh, may thy grave be sleepless as the bed. 
The widowed couch of fire, that thou hast spread ! 
Then, when thou fain wouldst weary Heaven with prayer, 
Look on thine earthly victims, and despair ! 
Down to the dust ! and, as thou rott'st away, 
Even worms shall perish on thy poisonous clay. 
But for the love I bore, and still must bear, 
To her thy malice from all ties would tear, 
Thy name, thy human name, to every eye 
The climax of all scorn, should hang on high, 
Exalted o'er thy less abhorred compeers, 
And festering in, the infamy of years. 



LINES 

ON HEARING THAT LADY BYRON WAS ILL. 

And thou wert sad, yet I was not with thee ! 

And thou wert sick, and yet I was not near ! 
Methought that joy and health alone could be 

Where I was not, and pain and sorrow here. 
And is it thus ? It is as I foretold. 

And shall be more so ; for the mind recoils 
Upon itself, and the wrecked heart lies cold, 

While heaviness collects the shattered spoils. 



MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 48 1 

It is not in the storm nor in the strife 

We feel benumbed, and wish to be no more, 

But in the after-silence on the shore, 
When all is lost except a little life. 
I am too well avenged ! But 'twas my right : 

Whate'er my sins might be, thou wert not sent 
To be the Nemesis who should requite ; 

Nor did Heaven choose so near an instrument. 
Mercy is for the merciful ! — if thou 
Hast been of such, 'twill be accorded now. 
Thy nights are banished from the realms of sleep ! 

Yes ! they may flatter thee ; but thou shalt feel 

A hollow agony which will not heal ; 
For thou art pillowed on a curse too deep : 
Thou hast sown in my sorrow, and must reap 

The bitter harvest in a woe as real ! 
I have had many foes, but none like thee ; 

For 'gainst the rest myself I could defend, 

And be avenged, or turn them into friend ; 
But thou in safe implacability 

Hadst nought to dread, in thy own weakness shielded ; 
And in my love, which hath but too much yielded, 

And spared, for thy sake, some I should not spare. 
And thus upon the world, — trust in thy truth. 
And the wild fame of my ungoverned youth. 

On things that were not and on things that are, — 
Even upon such a basis hast thou built 
A monument, whose cement hath been guilt ! 
The moral Clytemnestra of thy lord, 
And hewed down, with an unsuspected sword, 
Fame, peace, and hope, and all the better life, ' 

Which, but for this cold treason of thy heart, 
Might still have risen from out the grave of strife, 

And found a nobler duty than to part. 
But of thy virtues didst thou make a vice, 1 

Trafficking with them in a purpose cold, i 

For present anger and for future gold, | 

And buying others' grief at any price. ' • 



■\.,As 



A 



482 MISCELLANEOUS DOCUMENTS. 



And thus, once entered into crooked ways, 
The early truth, which was thy proper praise, 
Did not still walk beside thee, but at times. 
And with a breast unknowing its own crimes, 
Deceit, averments incompatible, 
Equivocations, and the thoughts which dwell 

In Janus-spirits ; the significant eye 
Which learns to lie with silence ; the pretext 
Of prudence, with advantages annexed ; 
The acquiescence in all things which tend. 
No matter how, to the desired end, — 

All found a place in thy philosophy. 
The means were worthy, and the end is won : 
I would not do by thee as thou hast done ! ^ 



lRpF«'?8 



